The Age of Gods
by TK Takaishi
Summary: After five hundred years of peace, the Age of Gods is over. Two young children, a boy and a girl, must embark on a dangerous journey of self-discovery to save their people and their land, even as their world tears itself apart around them.
1.

Five hundred years ago, Gaea, "Heaven's Land", was embroiled in a vicious internal war

** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru and Hikari doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. So leave me alone you vultures!

** Authors notes: I'm _baaack!!!!_ Thought I died, didn't you? ^_^ Well, this is my next project, an all-out epic like the "Ashes" trilogy. Except whereas the "Ashes" trilogy was a what-if fic, and had modern world / sci-fi overtones, _this_ will be totally different. A totally AU fic, like Caspian's "My Father's Crown", or Time Lady's "A Digi-Tale". This will be a fantasy, though not in the conventional sense (no dragons, trolls, cheesy spells, or witches here). It will have rather strong religious overtones, a _long_ way down the road. Christian religious. I mean come on, there's enough yaoi and yuri and NC-17 graphic sex fics out there, I think the Lord deserves a chance.

Also, just like "Ashes" this'll be an amalgamation of basically _anything_ I think of. You'll recognize concepts, ideas, and names from most notably: "Vision of Escaflowne", "Jo Jo's Bizarre Adventure" (the concept of the "stand"), "Record of Lodoss War", "Rurouni Kenshin", "Star Wars", and even games like "StarCraft" etc. Should make for an interesting read. See if you can spot them all! ^_^ I'll make a complete list of the ideas I used later on.

Special thanks to: Dreamwalker, and Phawx who both helped edit my story. Thanks a ton guys! I couldn't have done it without you. You were a great help!! ^_^

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Age of Gods: Chapter One

By: TK Takaishi

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Five hundred years ago, Gaea, "Heaven's Land", was embroiled in a vicious internal war.

Records are sketchy and vague, many details lost to the mists of time, but historians have managed to piece together fragmented accounts of that bloody age referred to as the "Aeon of Strife". Kingdoms locked in mortal combat for decades on end. Generations of soldiers lived and died for the sole purpose of grinding their enemies into the dust. Surrender was unthinkable. And the sad thing was, no one could remember how the war had started in the first place…

There were several major powers, but the one that was dominant among them was the Khaydarin kingdom. Its armies swept the land like a tide of darkness, and the countries, exhausted from internal conflict, could do nothing to stop them. They were predators, inciting chaos, and destroying all attempts at peace between the countries, in an effort for conquest of Gaea.

The ancient records of that era has it that it was about that time that Adun and the first stand-masters came to be.

Historians are uncertain of Adun's full name. They aren't even sure if that's his real name. The records, translated through six different languages, over a course of five hundred years, had lost much in terms of clarity. 

What is beyond doubt though, was that Adun was a visionary, the leader of a select few that possessed the awesome power of the stands. Some say he was a chosen sent from heaven, and commanded mysterious abilities that no one really understood.

After generations of bitter warfare and strife, it was Adun that finally brought an end to it all. Within three years, he had rallied the kingdoms of Gaea together against the Khaydarin kingdom, the one country that refused to submit to his peace proposals. The demon army was smashed and defeated, and slowly retreated from the kingdoms they had occupied. Bit by bit, "Heaven's Land" was reclaimed.

In the final battle, christened by later generations as the Seihad, or "Holy War" in the old tongue, Adun firmly pushed the Khaydarin kingdom back into the land from whence they came. According to legend, records and archaeological evidence recovered from that era, the battle was so apocalyptic, that the Earth itself awoke, screaming with rage. For three hours, the sky turned a deep crimson red, and blood rained down upon the earth. A string of volcanoes erupted, shattering the land, and ripped a corner of Gaea right off the mainland, forming what people now call the Island of Akeldama (that is, Field of Blood). It was on that island that the smashed remnants of the Khaydarin army were pushed, never to return.

And thus ensued, what historians call, "The Age of Gods".

Adun crafted a benevolent alliance of nations. Together, with the other stand-masters, they formed the Council. The power of the stand was passed down through the generations, and there were six families, six holy bloodlines, that were blessed with the power of God. That was the origin of the name "The Age of Gods", for during those blessed years, God's will was truly done on earth as it is in heaven. The Council ruled fairly and justly. But most importantly, they ruled for the good of all.

It was easily the most prosperous and peaceful age Gaea saw in all of her bloody history. For five centuries, people forgot the meaning of war, forgot the meaning of bloodshed. Together, the kingdoms of Gaea, who had once fought each other as bitter enemies, embraced each other as brothers, rejoicing in their similarities, and at the same time, their differences.

But all that was about to end...

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Blood.

War.

Death.

Two dark figures ran through the forest. Tearing at slashing branches, and tripping on gnarled roots, their breath caught in their throats as ragged sobs. A baby's wailing cry could be heard above the panted gasps for breath.

The night was dark. Inky black stretched in all directions. The trees were but shadows and silhouettes, black against black. The moon and the stars were gone, their usual, friendly flickering light devoid from the cold earth, for even the heavens were hiding their eyes.

Behind them, the midnight sky above the forest was stained blood red, refracted from the light of the burning city. The proud city of Palas, capital of the kingdom of Ishida, lay smashed and burning, as hordes and ranks of the demon army breached her walls, and slaughtered her defenders. The sound of crashing steel, scream of dying men and whinnying of horses sounded like some hideous battlehymn in the boiling night air. A small knot of knights stood alongside their Emperor, fighting valiantly, but the battle was already all but lost. The smell of cold steel, and coppery blood was in the air, as earth was shredded and tortured in the desperate struggle.

The Queen of Ishida refused to look back as she fled, sobbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to run despite the arrow wound in her shoulder. In her arms, she clutched a wailing baby, no more than five months old, crying with fright. At her side, a loyal soldier ran, his sword drawn and glimmering steel blue in the crimson firelight.

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It was not supposed to happen like this…

Tripping, the Queen fell, collapsing onto the ground. Instinctively, she clutched her baby closer to her chest. Immediately, the soldier was at her side, trying to help her up. "Milady, are you all right?"

The Queen waved him off as she panted for breath on the loamy earth, her hand clenched over the arrow wound in her shoulder. Crimson blood seeped around her fingers. 

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What's wrong with me? I've fought with the best of Ishida's knights, run with the fastest Ishida scouts, and yet my body is failing me…

Behind her, the feral screams of the pursuing army rang through the woods, as fleet hunter-seekers raced through the forest, chasing the last members of Ishida's royal family.

"It was not supposed to happen like this- "

Then, her body arched as she retched. Dark blood poured out onto the forest floor. Gasping, almost clawing at her throat for breath, she felt her entire body go numb. What was wrong with her?

With a frown, her bodyguard, one of Ishida's greatest knights, examined the arrow that had pierced his Queen's shoulders closely. In the moonlight, the steel arrowhead gleamed a faint purple, as if someone had painted the violet stain on. The soldier gave a moan of despair.

"Milady…"

"It was poisoned, wasn't it?"

The Queen drilled her soldier with a piercing glare. She knew the symptoms, she knew her limits, and she had a _long_ way to go before reaching them. "Vargas, answer me. The arrowhead, was it poisoned?"

Vargas nodded. He felt the arrow slip numbly from his fingers. The baby's wails seemed to increase.

The Queen closed her eyes. _Poisoned…._ Whatever poison the arrow had been contaminated with, it was undoubtedly spreading through her body right now, making its way inexorably towards her heart. There was no way of getting to an antidote in time.

That was assuming an antidote existed. The demon army did that sometimes. Use poisons they themselves had no antidotes for…

She took a last look at her precious baby. The boy wailed and sobbed piteously, frightened with the horrible screams of the dying in his ears, and the sounds of warfare. His tiny hands clenched the fabric of his mother's tunic desperately. The last hope for their people, the last fragile link of the Ishida bloodline.

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But you can't die…There's so much you haven't experienced yet, so much you haven't done…

"May you live to avenge what has happened this night," she murmured softly in the boy's ear. The baby's cries seemed to decrease for a moment, and the little prince looked tearfully into his mother's eyes, as if truly understanding what was about to happen.

Taking the baby, she handed the blanket-wrapped form to Vargas. Astonished, the soldier took him gently, his large, battle-scarred hands cradling the small form.

"Vargas. I want you to leave me."

"But milad- "

"Save yourself, and save my baby."

"Milady, I took an oath. You know I would never leave your- "

"_Bodyguard!_ _You will be silent when your Queen addresses you!_"

Vargas reluctantly closed his mouth, and bowed his head out of deference. The Queen's tone softened as she laid a hand on her bodyguard's shoulder. Unfastening one of the two swords buckled to her belt, she pressed the sheathed blade into her servants hands. Forcing the soldier to look into her eyes, she spoke slowly, each syllable clear and crisp, so there could be no misunderstanding.

"Run, as far and as fast as you can. I entrust upon your hands the life of the Crown Prince of Ishida. If you must, go into hiding. You must _never_, on your life as a knight, allow harm to come to our Prince.

"When the time is right, give this to my son." The Queen patted the sword now clenched tightly in Vargas's grip. "Teach him your skills, that he may use it for justice, and to protect the innocent. Your heart will tell you when the time is right.

"Then let destiny take what path it may."

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They both understood the significance of that tiny life that Vargas now cradled in his hands. The last link in the bloodline, the last generation of stand-masters…

Gleaming tears streamed down from Vargas's eyes. Battle-hardened soldiers do not cry. But he was being ordered to leave his _Queen…_

It was not supposed to happen like this…

"Milady. I would fight to the _death_ for you. To preserve the honour of the Ishida family, I am prepared to go all the way. Why do you doubt my loyalty so?"

The Queen shook her head slowly. She could feel her heart beginning to fail her, as crimson blood trickled from her shoulder. She didn't have much time left.

"As long as Gaea has a people, and a _leader_, there is hope…"

The feral screams and horrid screeches of the demons increased. Crashing and cracking could be heard as they smashed headlong through the woods, snapping entire branches as they went in their berserk killing rage. Once set in motion, the dreaded hunter-seekers could not be stopped until they had ripped their target to shreds. They had been known to annihilate legions of their own forces in their frenzy to get at their prey. Casting a glance over her shoulder, the Queen snapped at her servant.

"Now go. Run, and don't look back."

Sheathing his sword, Vargas cradled the crying baby close to his chest. Carrying the precious bundle, the soldier dashed off through the forest. His breath caught as ragged sobs in his throat as he ran, and his hands clutched the baby desperately. The boy's wails faded in the night as Vargas plunged blindly through the woods.

Behind him, the Queen staggered upright, drew her remaining sword, and stood in the face of the oncoming horde. Burning determination blazed in her eyes, determination to buy her servant, and her son, enough time to get away.

Even as the demons rushed her, charging her, she bayed her challenge to the winds.

"_O Father, stand by me now!!_"

Blinding light burst forth as a raging pillar of flames, illuminating the scene with holy brilliance. Her "stand", the royal phoenix, emerged…no…_exploded_ from her form as she summoned her will against the snarling ranks of hunter-seeker's that threatened to engulf her, pitting her spirit against the collective might of the demon army. Snow-white wings blazed against the dark, inky background above the Queen as she unleashed the ultimate representation of spirit and soul in all its blinding glory. 

And with that, the Queen of the Ishida royal family, one of the last surviving stand-masters remaining, launched herself headlong into battle for the last time…

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It was the end of the Age of Gods.

**_Fifteen years later_**

The winding mountain path was peacefully quiet. Ambient, late afternoon rays of warm summer sunlight, just beginning to turn red with dusk, filtered softly through the branches of trees, casting mottled blue and green shadows on the ground. The occasional chirp of forest songbirds sounded softly through the woods. This place was well back from the frontlines of the bloody war fronts, sheltered and protected.

A small, wooden cart, pulled by two horses, slowly bounced and creaked its way through along the dirt road. Sweet-smelling hay, feed for the horses, was piled in the back, along with various supplies and food items. Three figures sat in the open backboard, enjoying the summer sun. One, an old man in his early fifties, with a shock of steel gray hair and twinkling, hazel brown eyes, guided the reins. A sword was buckled to his belt, most likely for protection against bandits. The man's son, and a girl, his son's friend, lay sprawled in the hay stacked in the back.

From a distance, an observer would've seen the two children's plain clothing, and would've thought, "Typical farm children". Many youngsters accompanied their parents on supply trips like this one. In this case, the three of them were returning from a weeklong run, and were eager to get home. But upon closer inspection, one would've seen that the two children were not typical at all.

Takeru Takaishi was a fourteen-year-old boy from the quiet mountain village of Kurtal. Perhaps it was his slimness, his lightness of muscle and bone that would've struck one as unusual. He might be considered by some as a small boy, despite his medium height. Not unheard of, but rare in farm children.

But even more so was his face. His fair complexion, and delicate features, were unique, to say the least. In truth, Takeru hated his face. His platinum blond hair and blue eyes didn't help matters any. In summer, he exposed his visage to the burning sun for hours on end, and in winter, he scrubbed it hard with stinging snow to make it brown and weathered, as a true man's should be. But it was to no avail. No stain, and no whisker appeared. _Laesbube, _or "Angel-face", the village's boys had mockingly called him, but that had quickly stopped when they discovered that the boy' fists, though small, were dangerous. 

Takeru might not _look_ the part, but he had been extensively trained in the art of sword-fighting and personal combat since the age of eight by his father. Bullies had long since learned to keep their distance.

At the moment, the three of them were engaged in a spirited discussion, trying to while away the long travelling hours.

"I'm telling you, it's a rip-off!" the Takeru's father, Richard Takaishi, was saying as he idly guided the cart down the road. "Those merchants of _Broli_, they _always_ say they have the lowest price! We could've gotten twice the wheat seeds for half the price if we had looked a little further! Maybe spent an extra day or two looking around."

Takeru grinned as he stretched out luxuriously on the hay. "Yeah. But with the way the war's going, we're lucky to get prices like this. Food's getting scarce. Isn't that right, Kari?" Turning, the boy directed his gaze at the girl sitting beside him.

Hikari "Kari" Kamiya was dressed in the typical garb of mountain children as well, but somehow, she seemed to wear it with more dignity than any of the other girls in Kurtal, which constantly made those around her jealous. Shimmering, light brown hair framed her fine-featured face, held back with a simple hairclip, adorned with a white flower. The brown hair was more typical of Kurtal ancestry, but her eyes definitely were not. Her crimson-red eyes held the wonder and innocence of a child, but the depth and maturity of an adult. 

Right now, those eyes were twinkling with amusement at the argument between father and son. "I'll have to side with Takeru on this one, Mr. Takaishi," she said gently to the man. "Farmland's getting scarce, and prices are rising."

Richard snorted. "Youngsters nowadays. Ganging up on me, eh? You must think I'm some senile, old, outdated.... Why, back when _I_ was your age, we could buy- "

Suddenly, he stopped himself in mid-sentence. An awkward silence descended upon the cart. Takeru shot his father a puzzled glance. "Father? You were saying?"

Richard gave a small laugh, though it was tinged with a touch of sadness. "In light of the circumstances, I don't think this comparison's applicable."

Kari snapped her fingers. "That's right! Back when you were a child, the Age of Gods hadn't ended yet." Sitting up, her wine-coloured eyes widened with curiosity. "What _was_ it like? I mean, we learn about the history all the time, but I've rarely heard it from someone who's actually lived in that era. For some reason, mother doesn't like to talk about it."

Richard glanced at the setting sun. The sky was slowly turning a light shade of rose red with the dusk. "I...I don't know. I don't want to bore you children..."

Takeru rolled around until he was lying on his stomach. Bits of wheat and hay stuck to his blond hair. "C'mon father, just tell us already. _I _never tire of your stories. Why should Kari?"

For some reason, Richard remained silent as he guided the wagon along the road. In the fading afternoon light, it seemed his eyes suddenly hardened into cold flint, then softened again into their normal hazel brown.

"The Age of Gods was beautiful..."

Takeru had to strain forward to hear his father's whisper. Kari gave Takeru a puzzled sideways glance, but the blond boy just shrugged in return.

"I remember back then that one could travel anywhere one wished, without having to worry about loyalties, alliances, and war fronts. My father and I used to make runs all the way to the kingdom of _Sheid_, and we wouldn't even _think_ about bringing a weapon for protection. Land was everyone's land, and everyone was guaranteed safe passage on it.

"I remember great feast days, celebrations whenever our little town was honoured by the visit of a Council member. I mean, think about it! A chance to see one of the legendary _stand-masters!_ That was the stuff children's dreams were made of. I was but a little boy back then, but I would be _so _excited by the parade and procession. My father used to pick me up onto his shoulders so I could see over everyone's heads." A small smile flashed across the old man's weathered features. 

"And most importantly, I remember when wheat cost a third of what it costs now. It's a pity, in a way. I never realized how much I'd taken for granted until the Age ended..."

Richard fell silent. The setting sun gleamed red on the horizon. For a long moment, the wagon bounced along the dirt road in silence.

"Sir?" Kari ventured softly. "Do you...remember what it was like..._when_ the Age of Gods ended? When Ishida fell?"

In the velvety light of the dusk red sky, Takeru was certain he saw his father's eyes darken. The hazel brown turned almost black. Half of the man's face had fallen into shadow. 

"I prefer not to talk about it. Please understand.... I have…memories."

Kari opened her mouth to ask again, then closed it again as Takeru shook his head. "My father won't even say anything to me," he whispered in her ear. "He won't even tell me exactly how my mother died. All I know is that she passed away shortly after giving birth to me." For a moment, the boy's blue eyes were pained. For as far back as he could remember, it had always just been him and Richard. Richard had been a good, loving father for sure, but sometimes, a little boy just needed a mother. He didn't even know what his mother looked like. His family had never had a portrait of her painted.

"Ever since the beginning, it's just been father and I, poor farmers trying to make a living in the middle of a war. _I_ wish I'd gotten a chance to meet one of these stand-masters of the Age. It hurts him to talk about it. The things he's seen since then are best left alone."

Kari sighed. She knew the basic course of the story from there. She had just wanted so much to...to know _more._

Fourteen years ago, Khaydarin launched a sneak attack, and crushed Palas, capital of royal kingdom of Ishida. With at least five hundred years to rebuild her armies, the dark kingdom had regained a shadow of its former dark glory. Caught completely flatfooted, the capital fell quickly before it had a chance to mobilize her incredible military might. Her _entire_ royal family, every last member, was killed in that one night. 

The legendary Ishida bloodline of stand-masters was dead.

With the fall of one of the most powerful and prosperous kingdoms on the map, Gaea was thrown into chaos. Border raids and skirmishes incited by Khaydarin added to the confusion, and in the initial melee, several minor kingdoms were crushed. Tensions escalated as people accused one another of the damage. 

One of the first things Khaydarin did was to assassinate select members of the Council, the ones possessing the powers of the "stand". With a series of lightning-quick raids, they toppled whole cities in a matter of weeks, before any of the kingdoms had a chance to mobilize their armies. The murder of the Ishida family was one example. _The stand-masters were now an extinct race._ Aided by covert, sneak attacks and false diplomatic information planted by the demon army, the land fell to civil strife again within two years. Without the guidance of the Council, the people, in fright and despair, struck out blindly against one another.

And now, it seemed that history seemed doomed to repeat itself. Several countries had declared outright war on their neighbours, while several others seemed on the verge of doing the same. Bloody wars and fiery battles raged across the continent of Gaea, as Khaydarin's border raids grew bolder and bolder. 

The Aeon of Strife was back again in full force.

Had he heard, Adun would have turned in his grave.

Kari nodded, and settled back. The little cart made its way slowly around the winding valley path. The sun's golden-red orb was slowly sinking below the mountainous horizon. Takeru stretched, and settled himself deeply into the hay, making himself comfortable.

"Takeru?"

"Hmm?"

"Do _you_ know what it was like?"

In the fading evening light, Takeru stared at the sky as stars began appearing. His voice was a soft murmur as he spoke to his best friend. 

"Kari, I'm fourteen, remember? Even if I had been born at the fall of Ishida, I'd still only be a baby. I wouldn't remember anything." Turning his head, his blue eyes sought out Kari's crimson ones. "Why do you ask anyway? You seem very curious about the Age of Gods."

This time, Kari was silent for awhile. Her chestnut brown hair ruffled slightly in the evening breeze.

"Mother had always told me about Father, and what a great knight he was," she began haltingly. "She told me that he died trying to defend one of the last Council members, Gaea's last hope for peace. They say that it was Ichijouji soldiers that killed him, and assassinated the Council member. That's the official version anyway. But mother had always believed that it was Khaydarin forces...

"I want to know more about the age, the ideal world he died trying to protect..."

Takeru was silent for a moment, his blue eyes half-closed. "Perhaps you will. This Aeon of Strife can't last forever y'know. God wouldn't let his people suffer like that. 

"It might take a long time, but all we're waiting for now is the next Adun to lead us out…"

The pair was silent for a few hours as they winded their way along the pass. Kari yawned as she settled herself in the hay beside her best friend, and fell asleep. The cart creaked as it hit a pothole, and Richard murmured a soft "easy there" to the horses. The sun's orb was a deep crimson red by now, as it submerged slowly behind the far off hills.

Richard grinned to himself as he watched the setting sun. "Perfect timing," he whispered. Kurtal was just around the bend, and it looked like he'd be able to get home before sundown after all. Maybe he'd get to see a few friends before he went for dinner tonight. "Hey Takeru, you might want to wake Kari before- "

Then, he reined in the horses abruptly, both horses whinnying with fright from the suddenness of the maneuver. Kari was jerked wide-awake as the cart shuddered to a halt. As the girl gazed around, wide-eyed, Takeru clambered up to the frontboard, beside his father. "What just happened?"

Richard's hazel eyes seemed focused on some fixed point on the distance. Takeru frowned. "Father?" he questioned as he followed his gaze. 

And froze.

A dark, black cloud of smoke billowed into the sky, staining the clear evening sky a dirty blue-black.

Kari stood up for a better look. Her crimson eyes widened. "You don't think…"

"Hold on children," Richard gritted out, as he snapped the reins again, this time much harder. Takeru and Kari were almost thrown off their feet as the cart fairly took off up the rolling hill, the horses galloping along the path. The dirt road fairly flew by under the racing wheels as the two children hung on for dear life.

Then, as they crested the hill, Richard hauled in the reins again. The horses whinnied in fright as the cart skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.

The path winded through the hills and rocky cliffs like a snake, and here, it crested the rise in the mountain pass. Beyond the next valley lay the village of Kurtal. At this hour, the first fire torches should've been lit as the people prepared for night. From this vantage point, Takeru should've been able to see the farmers and the workers coming in from the fields after a hard day's work, and hear the faint echoes of mothers calling for their children to come in for dinner.

Instead, his horrified eyes took in a devastated vista of burnt out buildings. The charred, wooden remains still smouldered with fire, as flames raged across the once fertile green fields. A section of the outer fence of the village lay smashed open like a pile of so many twigs. The blue-black flames came from the burning of the fields and crops. The silos, storing the precious wheat looked like they had been ripped open, and looted.

Nothing was spared.

Numbly, the young boy sat down. He vaguely heard Kari sobbing beside him. When Richard jerked the reins, he barely noticed when the cart plunged down the valley floor, racing towards the devastated remains of what used to be the village of Kurtal.

Up close, the devastation looked even worse. An eerie silence blanketed the ruins, broken only by the crackling of burning flames. Here and there, Takeru could see the charred remains of corpses littering the streets. Around the corner, he could see a dead mother, holding her baby in a final embrace. He could feel his gorge rising in his throat. Beside him, Kari lost the battle, and threw up on the ground.

Skidding to a stop in front of the smashed remains of their farmhouse, Richard leapt off the cart, and unsheathed his weapon. His naked sword, the one the farmer always carried around for protection, gleamed coldly in the fading daylight. 

"Mrs. Kamiya?" he called out, his voice echoing in the mountains. "Mr. Fujiyama? Mr. Izumi?

"_Anybody?!_"

Silence. The wind whistled through the streets, bringing with it the smell of burning wood and flesh. It was at that moment that the sun set completely. Suddenly, the ruins of Kurtal looked that much more sinister and hostile without the sun bathing it in its warm glow.

__

How did they track me? After fourteen years, have they finally caught on? But I was so careful…

Takeru watched his father as the man stood stock-still, allowing the breeze to ruffle through his clothes. What the boy saw in his eyes frightened him. His father looked…cold. Takeru could see the fear in his father's posture, but it was under control. The man was not scared. It was something…different.

"Takeru."

Startled, the blond boy paused a moment too long before answering. "Ye…yes father?"

"Take Kari to her home. Check to see if there are any survivors. I want both of you back here once you've finished one round, regardless of what you find. _Both_ of you."

Relief flooded through the boy's mind. His father knew what he was doing. His father would know how to fix all this. Everything would be all right. "Yes father."

"Get moving. And be careful."

Taking Kari's hand, Takeru scrambled down from the cart. The girl looked shaky, and almost fell when she leapt off the wagon. Holding onto the boy's arm for balance, she pulled herself back up, but didn't let go. "Takeru…what happened here?" she whispered in a small voice.

The young child swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to remain strong, for his friend's sake. "Don't worry," he said, trying not to let the cold fear in his stomach get through to his words. Forcing a fake smile of confidence, he began running towards the Kamiya's next-door farm, no more than a field away. "Let's go find your mother." The two children ran off along the dirt road.

As the sound of the children's light footsteps faded, Richard turned. His shoulders stooped as if burdened with a heavy weight. Slowly, the mountain farmer sheathed his sword, the blade sliding in smoothly with a well-oiled hiss.

Striding resolutely into the burned out husk of a farmhouse before him, all that was left of his former life, the farmer entered through the door. Ignoring the smashed furniture, his feet crunching on the wooden splinters, Richard headed straight for the fireplace.

When he reached it, the man stood staring at the brickwork for what seemed to be an eternity. Unyielding, red stones, packed tightly together with mortar formed the chimney. Slowly, and with great care, Richard pushed one, select stone. The brick slid loosely in its slot, one corner jutting out. Clouds of mortar dust kicked up from the age-old brick as the farmer pulled the stone out.

This one brick had not been cemented in place like the others.

Reaching inside the dark gap, the old man groped about with his hand. His fingers brushed against a layer of cloth, wrapped around what seemed to be a round tube. Richard smiled grimly. 

His memory had not failed him after all.

Withdrawing his hand, he pulled the mysterious object out with him. Richard now held a long, slim, cloth-wrapped object, the fabric faded with age. A fine rope tied the waterproof package together. When the farmer blew gently on it, a cloud of decade-old dust drifted off lazily.

In the darkening twilight, Richard held the object up to his eyes. He lifted the cloth-wrapped package with respect, almost reverence, testing its weight, testing its strength. His hazel eyes were clouded with doubt, clouded with...sadness? 

__

But he's so young! Only fourteen-years-old, barely a man yet. I trained him well. I taught him everything I know, everything he has_ to know, and he's shown astounding progress. He's even better with the sword than _I_ was at that age._

But would it be enough?

Is he ready for this? Is he ready to know_?_

A single murmur escaped his lips.

"Could now be the time?"

** Author's notes: A lot of people have been pressing me for more and more romance. I'd suggest you take a look at the classification. This is Action / Adventure, and arguably Drama. Sure, there'll be Takari romance, but it's a _sidetheme_. It'll only be one out of a whole series of relationships I'm going to be exploring, like friendship, brotherly love, _parental_ love, and loyalty to your commander. I _refuse_ to degrade into one of those authors that writes _totally unjustified_ gooey, drippy, sappy romance WAFF fics. FF.net has enough of those…If I _do_ write sappy, it'll be for a reason, 'kay?

Well, what do you think? Love? Hate? Do you even think I should continue? I'm not about to write a novel that no-one's interested in. So please review!!


	2. Fanfic contest included

The Tenken: Chapter 2

** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru and Hikari doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. So leave me alone you vultures!

** Author's notes: Something I forgot to say last time. Ghost in the Machine was right when he said this was really more of an original fic than a digimon fic. Well, feel free to treat it that way if you want. Who knows? Maybe when I'm finished this, and if it's good enough, I'll change the names, send it to a publisher, and hope they'll accept it. Imagine that! Getting published at sixteen! ^_^

Takeru and Kari will remain the only two digimon characters in this saga. There will be more of the cast coming in in the second saga. (And yes, I've actually started writing that already). And will digimon be included? Well…sort of, and sort of not. Once you read this chapter, I think you'll be able to hazard a guess as to how I'm going to be bringing them in. Where "Ashes" focused on the 01 cast, this one'll focus on the 02 cast. Expect to see Davis, Cody, Yolei, and Ken. What'll be their fantasy reincarnations? Not telling. Heehee…

CONTEST DETAILS AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!! SPREAD THE WORD!!

****

The Age of Gods: Chapter Two

By: TK Takaishi

Not more than three hours ago, the valley of Kurtal had been a literal living hell, as screams of the dying, and the cries of conquerors alike had echoed through the mountains. Now, as the sun sank slowly into the west peaks, they were shrouded in a deceptively calm silence. Darkness cloaked the land like a veil, broken only by the flickering fires that were still burning among the ruins.

A small group of ten figures, spread out into a line, made their way along the streets. Their black body armour, emblazoned with a hissing golden serpent, gleamed in the dull light. Around their armoured shoulders, dark gray cloaks shrouded their bodies, seeming to ripple about them like a curtain of icy water as they moved. Wielding an array of wickedly curved scimitars, several of the blades were stained a deep crimson from their victim's blood.

But the most menacing thing about them was their faces. A full facemask covered each of their visages, leaving small slits for the eyes. And even those were covered with tinted glass. There was no way of telling one soldier apart from another, as their features were indistinguishable behind those masks.

Indeed, one couldn't even tell if they had human features. To the enemy, they were inhuman, emotionless and fearless. The mask itself was a weapon of sorts.

The lead soldier's helmet, the Centurion, bore a golden plume denoting his rank. Behind his mask, his eyes scanned the streets left and right as he prowled brazenly down the street. Cold. Controlled. He knew his mission. The main body of the army had left hours ago, but he and his group of soldiers were responsible for "cleaning up". The commander knew why.

There must be no trace that agents of Khaydarin had destroyed Kurtal. No survivors, no clues, nothing. All telltale traces of weapon marks, perhaps of a dead soldier here and there, must be disposed of before anyone found out about the village's destruction. In other parts of the valley, similar task forces were combing the countryside, the remains of Kurtal, and would leave in another hour or so.

By the time morning light illuminated this valley again, there would only be a burned out husk.

It was a matter of diplomacy. If the kingdoms ever discovered of this, ever got solid proof that Khaydarin was responsible for inciting war, their careful plans for conquest of Gaea would be crushed. 

The Centurion shrugged indifferently. He was a mere soldier, and a soldier does not concern himself with politics. As he turned back to the task at hand though, he couldn't help but snort with contempt. This little backwater village was hardly worth the bother of an entire division of Khaydarin's mighty army. A mere two-squadron task force would have been enough. Why his superiors had been so hell-bent on its destruction, he would never know.

All he knew were his orders. There were to be no survivors, and no prisoners. _Praetor_ Caylor had been surprisingly adamant about that, almost as if something, or _someone_, in this village, was of significance…

Suddenly, something flickered in the stillness. The Centurion froze. 

__

What was that?

Straining his eyes to the utmost, the Khaydarin soldier could barely see two moving dots far away, at least a mile. Taking out a mini handheld telescope, he placed it against his eye, and scanned the area again.

__

There. Two children. A boy and a girl, no more than fourteen, running along the streets. Both of them were dressed in the garb of farm-children.

The Centurion grinned. Grating out a guttural grunt to his soldiers, he settled into a run. With animal-like grace, the rest of his platoon spread out on the field, bloodhounds on a scent. Unsheathing his scimitar, the Centurion held it close to his side, the gleaming steel blade flashing in the moonlight.

His cloak swirled.

Explaining what happened next would be like trying to describe the concept of sight to a man that had been born blind.

The group's outline blurred and rippled. Their forms and shapes seemed to dim into nothingness as they ran across the ruined fields. Even when the first, silvery light of the stars shone upon the earth, they did not gleam upon the Khaydarin soldiers. They cast no shadow upon the cold earth. It was as if they had absorbed every last vestige of visible radiation into themselves, becoming nothing more than wraiths of shadows, a void of utter darkness. Impossible to pick out against the black background.

And thus, they silently descended upon the lone farmhouse on the hill…

__

There were to be no survivors.

**********

"Mother?! _Mother?!_" Kari called as she ran up the path to her home. "_Where are you?!_"

Beside her, Takeru kept pace with the girl as she approached her home, sprinting lightly. His eyes were grim as he scanned the smashed remnants of the burning farmhouse. Reason dictated that since no one from town had survived, it was a likely bet that Mrs. Kamiya was dead too. But he kept that piece of logic to himself, unwilling to crush his friend.

The normally cheerful and tidy house looked deserted. From the outside, it appeared to be untouched. The door was open and unlocked, creaking as it swayed to and fro in the evening wind. That in itself was cause for worry. Kari ran up the porch steps, and skidded to a halt in the doorway. 

"_Mother?!_" she called again in mindless desperation. Her crimson eyes widened at the destruction within her home. Takeru sucked in a breath as he stopped next to her, and peered in over her shoulder.

The normally cheerful living room was a wreck. Furniture had been overturned and smashed, sheets ripped and shredded, and wreckage of silverware was piled on the floor in shattered slivers. It was almost as if the people who had invaded had been looking for something, or someone. Nothing was left untouched.

"Kari…" Takeru started gently.

The girl pretended she didn't hear. Racing upstairs, she scanned the upper floors, while Takeru, shaking his head at the futile gesture, combed the lower ones. 

But he found nothing. Half of the kitchen had been razed, and the living room had been totally wrecked.

The two searched everywhere. In the rapidly fading light, they searched the grounds, the fields, and the attic. Takeru looked in the cellar as Kari went to the barn. He found smashed furniture, mindless destruction, but he didn't find a trace of Mrs. Kamiya. No clues even, to whether she was alive or not. No telltale traces of blood, no torn clothing.

He felt sick. Sick to the pit of his stomach with disgust and hatred. It was a new feeling to the normally gentle boy, this all-consuming, unfocused rage, and already, Takeru hated it. It was hot rage, and he couldn't use it. Instead, hot rage used him. 

He stopped, and took a couple quick breaths until the red haze beginning to cloud his vision cleared. Now was not the time to get mad. In defeat, he made his way to the barn to meet up with Kari.

He found the girl sitting numbly on the floor, heedless of the straw strands that littered it. In her hand, she clutched a golden pendant, its chain snapped cleanly in half, as if it had been yanked off its owner. As she heard his footsteps, she turned frightened crimson eyes up to meet his.

"TK…" In her distress, Kari slipped back into Takeru's childhood nickname. "Did you find her? Did you find anything?"

Takeru shook his head slowly. "Nothing." The word hung heavily in the air.

Kari took a deep breath. "Maybe she's on the grounds somewhere. Or in the cellar…"

"I just checked the cellar. And the attic. I didn't find anything except a big mess."

"The fields?"

"Same thing. They burned your crops as well, the bastards. In fact, near as I can tell, they burned the entire village's harvest."

It was obvious that Kari was struggling to keep her composure. "But why?"

The boy sighed as he hazarded a guess. "Whoever they were, they were looking for something. I can't tell whether they found it or not. And frankly, whatever it is, they can have it. Nothing could be worth this…"

The girl's shoulders slumped with disappointment. Bowing her head, she began trembling. "Where is she…? Takeru, where is my mother…"

"I…" Takeru hated himself. He had no answer. "I don't know…"

The boy could see that the girl was crying. Weeping bitterly. He couldn't see her eyes, as her head was bowed, and her bangs obscured them. Bu he could see the trails of the glistening tears as they coursed down her cheeks. Hugging herself, she began to shiver violently, as if she was cold.

"I'm scared Takeru…" she whispered softly.

Hesitantly, the boy padded over. Kneeling down, he held the crying girl gently, yet securely. The gesture felt awkward, but somehow, it felt like…like the right thing to do. He didn't say a word, but just allowed her to cry into his chest, as he gently rubbed her back.

A sanctuary against the madness, a rock to hold onto in the storm.

They stayed like that for a long time. Exactly how long, Takeru couldn't be sure. The two children sat silently in the dark farmhouse, lost in the ruined shell of their past lives, as one tried valiantly to comfort the other. Then, slowly, Kari's sniffles subsided. Her trembling stopped.

Pulling away from the boy, she offered him a weak smile. "Thanks TK," she whispered. It was a small smile, stained with tears, but the boy realized that, in her broken state, it was all she could afford to give.

Takeru smiled lightly in reassurance. "Maybe your mother escaped?" he suggested hopefully. "Maybe she managed to get away before whoever it was attacked?"

Kari shook her head slowly. "She wouldn't have left this." The girl held up the golden locket she had found on the ground. "She wears it all the time. Even if she'd been totally surprised, this would still have been around her neck."

"Maybe she- "

"Takeru, you don't understand." Kari glanced at the locket. "This was the last thing that father gave mother before he died. She would _never_ leave it behind, nor forget it. 

"Besides me, it was all she had left." For a moment, silence reigned in the barn as they both gazed at the locket. The moonlight streaming in through the door glinted off its golden finish.

Then a frown crossed Takeru's face. His hands unconsciously tightened around Kari's shoulders protectively. "Did you hear that?" He said in an urgent whisper.

Kari looked up. "Hear what?"

"Shh."

By now, all traces of sympathy and comfort had disappeared from the boy's face. He sat up stiffly, looking left and right, all senses strained to the utmost. All of a sudden, everything in the barn looked suspect. The shadows by the haystack, the stalls, any number of things could be hiding in the dark. A shiver ran up his spine. 

The boy had never been afraid of the dark, even in his childhood.

So why was he afraid now?

Recalling his father's words of caution, he stood up slowly. "Come on." He offered a hand to Kari, and pulled her up beside him gently but firmly. "We'd best get back to my place as soon as possible. Richard said he wanted us back as soon as possible. It's not safe- "

__

BOOM! CRACK!!

The side wall of the old barn exploded in a shower of flying wood splinters and dust, crumbling from some terrific, external force. To Takeru's startled eyes, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy gray-black silhouette charging straight through the wall like it was glass, tearing up the barn's wooden floor as it went, so great was its speed.

In the split second it took for the figure to cover the distance across the entire barn, it started to ripple, as if caught in the distortion effect of ripples on a crystal clear pond. A gray cloak materialized out of the darkness, billowing in the wind, and a raised silver scimitar blazed with white fire as it reflected the moon's rays, drawn back for a lethal thrust.

There was no time to think, no time to reason. Reacting on gut instinct, Takeru shoved Kari violently away from the oncoming attack. Sprawling onto her side, Kari heard the boy's yell. "_Kari! Get awa- UGH!"_

It was too late for Takeru himself to dodge. The soldier was already upon him. On the ground, Kari twisted around desperately, only to see the assassin thrust the winter-keen tip of his scimitar deep into the boy's left shoulder. The blade sliced through muscle and bone, until the gleaming tip exploded out the boy's back in a spray of blood. His scream of pain echoed off the barn walls.

"_NO!_" she screamed. Staggering upright, she desperately charged the soldier. "_Leave him alone!!_"

The figure clad in black and gray merely turned around and backhanded her savagely. Sprawling back onto the floor, all she could do was watch helplessly.

Takeru was barely standing, his face ashen. His free hand was clenched around the silver blade buried in his shoulder, as crimson blood flowed liberally down his side, staining his tunic. Contemptuously, the soldier grabbed Takeru's lapel, and effortlessly lifted the boy off the ground. 

"_T'raylya ohm t'air salatrél…_" he hissed softly, the cryptic language rolling sibilantly off his tongue.

Wrenching his blade free in a shower of blood, the assassin savagely hurled the boy away. Takeru hit the ground hard, skidded across the hay-strewn floor like a broken doll.

__

There were to be no survivors.

"_Takeru?! Get away from hi- " _Kari tried to dash to the boy's side, but found suddenly found her arms pinioned to her sides. A pair of strong arms snaked their way around her neck, and her head was yanked back in a sleeper hold. All she could manage was a choked scream of surprise. 

And as she looked around wildly, she realized they weren't alone.

One by one, the surrounding darkness rippled, and shimmered, peeling apart as if reality had been folded like a piece of paper, and ripped in half. Finally, each distortion gave way to another gray-clad soldier. Slowly, they appeared in a ring around the girl and her fallen friend, ten in all. It was the first time Kari had gotten a real look at their assailants, and her heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened. 

There was a golden serpent emblazoned onto their black armour: the symbol of Khaydarin.

Then, the grip tightened. She gasped as she felt her windpipe constrict, cutting off her breathing. Behind her, the Khaydarin soldier that held her lifted her off the ground effortlessly, as she struggled ineffectually against his grip. A burning black fog flickered on the edge of her vision, threatening to engulf her…

Through a red haze of fire, Takeru lifted his head, and slowly levered himself up onto his good elbow. "Let…let her go." he rasped, his voice tight with pain. "She's just a girl..."

Looking down, the first soldier, the Centurion, squatted down beside the fallen boy. The moonlight gleamed off his assassin's facemask. "Just a girl…?" The voice was sibilant, but cold, with a strange accent on the s's. It almost seemed amused. "Little boy, what is she to you?"

In the darkness, the Khaydarin Centurion couldn't tell whether it was blood or tears that traced their way down the blond boy's cheeks.

"She…" Takeru's voice was barely above a whisper. "…she's my friend…"

Behind the mask, the Centurion's thin lips twisted into a cruel smile. Standing up, he backed away from the boy, his scimitar dropping. _Praetor_ Calor had said there were to be no survivors. That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun. Receiving a nod from his Centurion, the soldier holding Kari shifted his grip from a sleeper hold, to a stranglehold.

"Watch boy." The Centurion sheathed his blade as he observed the scene with satisfaction. "Do you know how someone looks like being strangled to death?"

"No…don't…" Takeru's eyes widened with horror.

To Kari, it felt like her lungs were on fire. Her body screamed for air, but the pressure on her throat remained steady. She couldn't even gasp. Kicking feebly, she tried to free herself, but it was impossible. The soldier behind her was twice as large, and twice as strong. Colourful motes dancing on the edges of her vision, and the black haze closed in until there was only a pinpoint of light. Her struggles grew weaker and weaker.

The assassin hissed almost joyfully. "I've never seen one myself. I usually just kill my victims with outright."

"_Don't…_" The boy rasped again, dragging himself along the floor.

"Why don't we find out together?"

The Centurion stroked the hilt of his sword absent-mindedly as he watched with sickening fascination. The boy was pitifully trying to lever himself upright, despite his wounded shoulder. Turning, the Centurion smirked as he saw that the girl was almost totally still now, her crimson eyes dimming and closing. The hands clenched at the forearm across her throat loosened almost imperceptibly.

To Kari, the curtain of black was absolutely impenetrable now. It seemed like all her strength was being sapped away, slowly. Shooting stars of light erupted on the edges of her vision, as she felt herself grow limp.

__

Then inexplicably, the light returned. 

What was that she heard?

The sound of running water, of the whistling wind. The roaring fire, and the rumbling earth. Time ceased. A chorus of voices seemed to be whispering to her, but she couldn't make anything out. They seemed to be chanting in some exotic, lyrical language. Random images, memories from some other lifetime, seen through the eyes of some other person, poured through her mind like a torrent.

A peaceful people before a podium, thunderous applause sounding in the air as the people rejoiced before the Lord…

The healthy wail of a newborn baby, a proud king lifting his son up in triumph. "May your reign be long and peaceful…"

The fires of war burning away at a smashed and dying city, her towers and battlements crumbling into dust as a raging army breached her walls…

A lithe, powerful cat-beast, pure white angel wings blazing with divine light sprouting from its back…

It was frightening and wonderful, terrifying and beautiful at the same time. 

But above all, a single cryptic symbol seemed to engrave itself onto her mind, even as the voices began to shift into words…

__

Blessed are they who are chosen,

For the Lord has a great purpose, and a divine will for such as these.

I tell you this, they will work wonders in the name of the Father

and perform miracles in front of many

Suddenly, the Centurion frowned. What is this? His hand stopped caressing his hilt, and gripped it firmly instead. His thumb pushed the scimitar about an inch out of its sheath. What's happening?

On the girl's chest, a faint symbol seemed to glow, resembling a shining, white star. It was faint, barely visible through her tunic. He would most likely have missed it if he hadn't been watching so closely, but it was _there_. The Centurion frowned as he leaned in closer for a better look.

__

But they who have seen shall not believe

Their hearts are of lead, and their minds are of stone

And upon such as these, the Lord God shall send his angels of war…

Then, a flickering of muted, golden light at the corner of his vision caught his attention. Turning, he all but leapt back in alarm. His sword cleared his sheath with a vicious _hiss_.

__

The boy…

"_Leave her alone!!_" Takeru screamed, as leaves and stray bits of hay swirled around in a vortex of rippling wind. A strange symbol, a _rising meteor_ glowed…no, _burned_ a brilliant platinum gold on his chest. The boy's normally soft-spoken voice held a note of insanity, of…

__

…bloodwrath…

Suddenly, the soldier holding Kari suddenly screamed. For no apparent reason, the arm clenched across the girl's throat was suddenly wrenched away, held out quivering in mid-air, as the soldier clenched his teeth against the pain. The limb twisted savagely, on it own accord, so hard that the crack of breaking bone sounded clearly through the dim space. Numbly, Kari collapsed onto the floor as she was let go.

__

Woe be to him upon whom the wrath of God is poured!

For great is the servant of the Lord, 

And terrible is His righteous rage…

On the floor, Takeru twisted his arm around out front. With a sharp, instinctive arm gesture, he _pushed…_ And where he pushed, reality distorted itself into a swirling funnel of destruction. It seemed as if Takeru's palm had sent forth a rippling, sonic stream of air, tearing up the wooden floor as it went…

The soldier holding Kari was consumed instantly as he was blasted, screeching, into the wall. His black armour glowed a fierce white, then caved in and dissolved with an ear-splitting scream of shredded leather. Then he was blasted _through_ the wall, even as his body disintegrated into flaming ashes. 

And the most disquieting thing was, Takeru hadn't even touched him…

**********

Outside, Richard was just finishing preparations to the cart when he saw it. With a loud _crack_, the wall of the Kamiya barn abruptly exploded outwards in a storm of wood chips. One couldn't help but notice.

Cursing, he dropped everything immediately. Setting off on a dead sprint through the night, he ran for the farmhouse, quickly drawing the sword at his side. Not even bothering with the road, he cut straight across the fields, leaping lithely across brooks and rivers in his haste.

__

Takeru, hold on…

**********

The moment she was released, Kari collapsed, rolling on the floor. Coughing viciously, she greedily sucked in lungfuls of air. Huddling in a shivering bundle on the hay-strewn floor, the faint snow-white symbol of the morning star fading from her chest as quickly as it had appeared. Instead, she watched with horrid fascination as her childhood friend, one of the most gentle and caring people she knew, went insane…

As Takeru was mobbed, he struggled furiously. Seizing the Khaydarin blade the dead soldier had dropped, the boy flailed around dangerously with it, and several careless soldiers were killed instantly. His golden glow brightened, then dimmed, brightened, then dimmed again. Takeru obviously had no control over it. To Kari's startled eyes, the strange, cryptic symbol, resembling a rising meteor, flashed boldly on his chest, visible even through his blood saturated tunic.

__

What is he wearing under his shirt?

With a half-crazed scream and a resounding crash, Takeru's blade crashed into the Centurion's scimitar with a blinding spray of white-hot sparks. The force of the blow drove the soldier skidding along the floor for several paces. 

Although insane, the Centurion reflected grimly, the boy apparently knew how to use a sword. And very well too. No one in this quiet backwater village should have such an extensive knowledge of such sword techniques, much less use them so instinctively and smoothly.

Where had a simple mountain boy come to learn of such skills? How could a simple mountain boy possess such _power_? 

__

What was that symbol on his chest?

With a ripple that was now so characteristic of his cloak, the Centurion shimmered into nothingness. In the pitch-black barn, he was all but invisible. Slowly gliding behind the struggling boy, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

On the floor, Kari watched in horror as a form wavered, then snapped into existence, right behind the struggling boy. The moonlight streaming in through the gap in the wall flashed off the raised scimitar's silver blade, kindling it into a blazing white fire. "_Takeru! Behind- "_

Slash!

Richard's sword cut the Centurion neatly in half. With a horrible animal screech, and a splash of red blood, the Khaydarin commander slumped onto the floor, the silver blade clattering uselessly on the floor. All activity ceased abruptly, as the remaining soldiers turned at this new threat. Takeru collapsed onto his knees, then onto his side as his injuries claimed him.

"_Shun Ten Satsu!!_" the "farmer" hissed viciously as he charged in a blindingly fast attack, crushing the distance between himself and his opponents like a snake would crush its victim.

The "heavenly sword" succession technique sent two soldiers flying clean through the barn walls, so powerful was its slash. Neither of them had a chance to scream as they were cleaved neatly in half, the unstoppable attack slicing through armour, flesh and bone alike. Even before the corpses had landed, Richard skidded to a halt between Takeru and Kari, and the remaining soldiers. A haze of dust and stray straw bits swirled in the fading wind of his charge.

__

None of these soldiers can leave this place alive. They've seen far too much…

The remaining five soldiers looked at one another in hesitation. Then, one of the Khaydarin men snarled. Donning his cloak, his form shimmered and blurred. The black form, barely distinguishable from the background, charged straight for Richard.

__

Slash; slash.

Two smooth strokes later, the now decapitated soldier skidded to a halt on the far side of the barn, rippling back into sight as his cloak was torn to shreds. The maneuver had taken less than a split second. Behind the downed soldier, Richard snarled. Shifting to an offensive position, and lunged forward.

Hissing, the remaining three soldiers took note of the now drastically shrunken odds. One by one, they shimmered and wavered into nothingness as they donned their cloaks. Richard's attack demolished half of the wooden doorway, missing its mark. There were no footsteps to indicate the soldiers' passing. They were just there one moment, and gone the next.

"_Merde!!_" Richard yanked his blade out savagely from the ruined woodwork. In a heartbeat, Richard had positioned himself back into his default defensive stance, alert for attacks.

But no attacks came. No shimmering, no distortions as they uncloaked to reveal their scimitars. The night air was as still as ice. They were gone like tendrils of mist in a fog. For a long while, Richard remained poised. It was only after he was certain they were gone that he slowly lowered his blade, and relaxed. 

He did not, however, sheath his sword.

Behind him he could hear Kari's stifled sobs. "TK?! TK, speak to me…"

__

Takeru!

Richard turned around abruptly. With three quick strides, he crossed the dark barn, and knelt down by his fallen son's side. Takeru was curled up on the floor, nearly passed out from loss of blood. Kari was already there, desperately trying to stem the bleeding from her friend's shoulder with what looked like the sleeve of her tunic. The once white fabric had already been saturated with blood, dyed a crimson red.

The boy was weeping inconsolably, shaking violently as the bloodwrath left him. In its place was turmoil, and confusion. His shoulders heaved with a roiling mixture of rage and fear, anger and panic. Looking up at his father, his bright blue eyes were pained. Clouded, not with physical pain, but with fear. 

Fear of himself. Of what he had become.

As merciful unconsciousness closed around him, the boy managed to whisper one final question. 

"Father…

"_What the hell is happening to me…?_"

Then all was dark.

**********

__

"For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found…"

- Luke 15: 24

__

Time seemed to pass Takeru without touching him, except in glancing blows. It might have been days. It might have been weeks. For all he knew, it might have been years. His rest was disturbed, haunted. Several times he seemed to wake up, only to collapse back into unconsciousness again moments later. 

Or did he only dream of waking up? What was real, and what was not? Where did dream end, and reality begin?

He seemed to pass through lifetimes in his dreams. Over and over again, he was forced to live through the horrible fight. The mindless hate as the bloodwrath seized him…

And other times, his dreams made no sense. He didn't remember them. Random images, streaming memories that weren't his. People and places he'd never seen, things he'd never done. Happy memories and terrible memories.

War and peace. Hate and love. Despair and hope. All this and more poured through his consciousness. The fires of war, consuming a proud city as it crumbled.

A holy warrior, six great, feathered wings spreading from his back, arching in graceful flight. A divine, golden halo surrounding his form…

And above all, his dreams were filled with that one cryptic symbol, the rising meteor, blazing golden in his foggy thoughts…

The boy gradually awoke to the fragrant smell of burning wood chips. Slowly, his blue eyes opened a crack. He could feel the warmth of the nearby fire on his cheek. As his mind slowly emerged from the gray haze of unconsciousness, he began to take note of his condition.

The first thing he noticed was the pain. His left shoulder was throbbing, and with each heartbeat, he could feel the rent carved viciously into his body. He could still recall the kiss of the icy scimitar as it plunged through his flesh. Despite the wholesome warmth of the fire, his brow was bathed with cold sweat as his body struggled to push back the coming infection, his breathing laboured and pained.

Takeru almost closed his eyes again.

The real world was too painful, too hard to face. To just fall asleep would be so much easier…

But no. Icy resolve hardened in his mind. Pain was a thing of the mind, and the mind could be controlled. The mind could be controlled. Repeating this mantra to himself, his blue eyes opened all the way, and slowly focused.

He was lying on his right side beside a campfire. Someone had bandaged his injury up with a clean, white cloth. Takeru thought he could feel stitches holding his wound together when he moved as well. On the other side, through the bright flames, he could see the sitting figure of his father, examining something in his lap. Judging from the darkness all around him, it was most probably night time. Slowly, he began to remember…

Sudden panic washed over him like breaking ice water. What had happened back at Kari's farm? How had he _done_ the things he'd done? Jerking, he sat up abruptly, then gasped as a burst of fire lanced its way through his shoulder. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.

"Take it easy TK," a concerned voice murmured in his ear. Kari pushed the boy back down until he was lying on his back. Taking a damp cloth soaked with cool water, she bathed the boy's fevered brow. "Try not to move. Just relax…"

Somehow, her voice had a soothing effect on the boy. The panic left, replaced only with a gnawing uneasiness. "Kari?" he croaked. His throat felt dry. "What…where…"

"We're safe, TK. You've been out of it for awhile. Your father carried you, and we left Kurtal. Right now, we're deep in the mountains, somewhere in the forest. No-one can find us here." The girl gently brushed a lock of blond hair back from the boy's forehead.

Some of the tension left Takeru's face as he settled back into his straw pallet, trying to conserve his strength. Then he remembered. Suddenly, his blue eyes widened with concern. "Are you…all right?"

Kari grinned. She lifted her chin to show a bruise forming on her throat, and rubbed at it ruefully. "I've been better, but I'll live. Hey, you're the one to talk. That should've been my question." 

Her voice softened. "But thanks anyway."

A small, tired grin of relief lit up Takeru's face. He opened his mouth to answer, when Richard's kindly face bent down over him. "So, you're awake, huh?"

The boy recognized his father's face with a jolt. All other thoughts were instantly banished from his mind except for that one, overriding question. "Father?!" The words sprang unbidden from his lips. "What- "

"You scared me for a second there. You lost a lot of blood." Richard ruffled the boy's blond hair affectionately. "Try not to talk, or move too much."

Takeru calmed down a little. "How bad is it?"

Richard replied matter-of-factly. "It was a flesh wound, thank goodness. You should be able to use your left arm again in about two weeks, though not for anything involving strength. Infection is minimal, possibly because it was treated soon, but mainly because your body's just damn stubborn. It won't heal over completely for another month though."

"But father, I-"

"Takeru."

Richard held up a hand, as if to forestall any words physically. He could see the questions in the boy's eyes, but his hand remained firm. Suddenly, the twinkle of humour in the man's eyes was gone. His face became deadly serious.

Slowly, deliberately, he addressed his son.

"Takeru, I have something to tell you. I want you to stay quiet, and not interrupt me until I'm finished. You may ask any questions you have at the end, but I want to get everything out onto the table in one go, because this is not going to be easy for you to accept." Turning, Richard looked at Kari. "And that goes for you too.

"Remember. All I offer, is the truth."

Takeru nodded. Kari arched an eyebrow. She had known the man almost as long as she had known TK. That is to say, forever. And she had rarely seen him so serious, so…grim. In the flickering firelight, he looked…different. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with bright resolve, hope, and…

…guilt?

Richard settled back, sitting on the loamy earth. For a long moment, he remained silent, his eyes mesmerized with the dancing flame. When he began, his voice was low and husky.

"Takeru. If this had been a simple matter of choosing the best and happiest future for you, I would not tell you this. I would tell you to grow up, fall in love, and live out your life in contentment. I would tell you that ignorance _is_ bliss.

"But it's not that simple. This is _not_ the simple matter of _your_ future. And what I am about to tell you, may shatter your perception of me, and of yourself, forever. Maybe you'll curse me for this. Maybe you'll hate me for coming out with the truth. But that's what it is. The truth.

"You have been a good son, an obedient and faithful son. Believe me when I say this, I love you deeply, and am proud to have served _as_ your father for the past fourteen years." The farmer lowered his eyes.

"But I am not your father."

Takeru and Kari stared at him with an incredulous expression. _Not his father?! _What was Richard talking about? Of course he was Takeru's father. But they remained quiet, as promised.

For a second, an awkward stillness enveloped the small party around the campfire as Richard lapsed back into silence. A soft gust of wind blew along the forest floor, and the fire flickered in its gentle kiss. Then, the man sighed. Taking hold of the slim package on his lap, he lifted it in his hands. Takeru stared curiously at the object as Richard unwound the top part of the cloth, and grasped what looked like a long handle.

"Let me tell you what happened back at Kari's farm."

"You felt…strange. For a moment, your senses heightened. You could see farther, hear more, feel more. You felt strength surge to your fingertips when you should have nothing left. You blasted a soldier through a wall without even touching him.

"And on your chest," Richard's eyes flashed. "was this symbol."

Takeru's breath caught in his throat as his father pulled on the shaft. With a metallic clink, and a smoothly oiled hiss, a gleaming sliver of silver slid out of the cloth-wrapped package, completely untouched by time.

It was a sword, a magnificent katana. Slightly curved, the razor-sharp edge flashed faintly in the firelight. Takeru's eyes traveled down its steel-blue form, tracing the minutely serrated and smoothly grooved edge all the way to the pointed tip, completely undulled by the ages. The hilt was bandaged with leather to provide for a better grip, and a small hand-guard protected its user. It had none of the fancy tidbits so common in modern katanas. It was what it appeared to be, a stout, lethal blade that would serve its master well in combat. 

But that was not what Takeru was staring at.

At the base of the blade, where steel met hilt, was a small insignia. The symbol seemed to leap out at him. The cryptic rising meteor gleamed golden in the firelight, exactly as it had appeared in his dreams. He shot a sharp glance at Richard. That symbol. How had his father known? What was that symbol doing on that sword?

"Takeru, do you remember the Ishida kingdom? The stories I told you?"

The boy nodded. Ever since he had been a little child, his father had told him stories of the Age of Gods, glowing portraits of the times it had once been. Always, they had centered around the legendary kingdom of Ishida, the most powerful and prosperous of them all. 

But what relevance could that have to this? The royal family had been wiped out almost fifteen years ago…

"This," Richard gestured at the symbol engraved on the sword, "is one of the most precious and most sought after swords in all of Gaea. Some call it the _Ichidou, _the royal katana of the Ishida kingdom. On it, is the crest of Ishida, the crest of Hope, symbolic of the Ishidan stand. Only those born of the Ishida royal family, the bloodline of stand-masters, possesses this crest." Richard's eyes seemed to pierce through the boy. 

"As do you."

Kari gasped as everything began to make sense…

"Your name is 'Takeru Ishida', brother of Yamato Ishida, son of Queen Nancy and Emperor Masaharu Ishida III, two of the greatest Stand-masters that ruled in the Council. Since your older brother Prince Yamato is dead, you are officially Crown Prince of all Ishida until you're sixteen, at which point you'll become Emperor.

"And that little incident back at Kari's just proved it."

Takeru's head was spinning. _Crown Prince? A stand?! I possess a stand?! _It was too much. It didn't matter that he had taken a vow of silence for the next few minutes. He couldn't have spoken even if he tried.

Kari was no better. Sitting back, she turned incredulous eyes towards her best friend. 

The legendary stand, short for "stand-by-me", was it's master's ultimate incarnation of spirit and soul. Kari had heard a lot about it, and the supposedly extinct race of warriors that wielded it. Each Stand-master had a different stand, with different forms. Some had the incarnation of a lion, some of a serpent, some of an eagle. She had learned that each was reflective of the master's spirit. 

As she had learned about the stand's devastatingly destructive power.

Each stand-master had been specifically chosen, and blessed by God to carry out His will. In the name of the Lord, they had toppled kingdoms, and challenged demons. Their wrath and fury, when provoked, was unparalleled. It was said that powerful Kings and mighty Emperors, when confronted with the wrath of the stand-masters, had hidden in caves and begged the rocks of the mountains to fall on them and hide them from the face of the Lord.

Yet, the stand was more than a blind, destructive weapon. The Lord would have none of that. The Stand-masters had also been the ones to bring peace to the land, the ones who had brought about the Age of Gods…

Takeru shook his head. "I don't believe it." No. It was too much. It was not possible. He was nothing, a weakling who couldn't even protect his friend. How could he be expected to save the world, when he couldn't even save Kari? How could God choose him, a simple farmer boy?

__

Surely, Lord. There must be others out there more capable than me. I am Takeru Takaishi, son of Richard Takaishi, born and bred in the mountain village of Kurtal. I am no Crown Prince…

Or am I?

"Takeru, you have to believe me." Richard's voice was firm. "Fourteen years ago, when Ishida fell, your mother entrusted me with protecting your life. _Your life!_ Your father was dead. Your older brother, prince Yamato, was dead. Your mother died moments after giving you to me. But _you_…you were our last hope…

"I was a knight of the order of Ishida, one of the best. But I ran. I ran like a coward. I changed my name to 'Richard'. I severed all ties to my past life, my family, my surviving friends and comrades. I became a simple farmer, and settled in Kurtal. But thus far, my mission has been successful.

"You are alive."

The boy bowed his head. It couldn't be true, and yet it was. The battle back in Kurtal had proved that much. He felt betrayed. His voice was barely above a whisper, an anguished murmur.

"You lied to me…"

Richard heaved a sigh. His face contorted with the weight of the guilt he had been carrying for fourteen years. "Takeru, I'm sorry- "

"When were you planning to tell me? Huh?" Takeru's voice was stinging.

Richard continued doggedly. "I couldn't risk telling you your true identity, for if anyone ever found out that there was a _stand-master_ left alive, Khaydarin would surely have assassinated you within a month. You were too young! But now, you seemed to have discovered it all by yourself…"

The boy couldn't breath, couldn't think. He tried to stand, but his shoulder forced him back down again. Unthinking rage and sorrow welled up, drowning out all of his thoughts, all of his reasoning. In pain and confusion, Takeru lashed out viciously, unthinkingly.

"But what about _me?!_ _The person?!_ All this time, all these years, I was nothing more than a…than a burden? _A mission?!_ You never loved me as a son, because you were _commanded _to take care of me?! Is that it? '_Father'_?!" Takeru spat out the last word as he looked away to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Tears of betrayal.

Richard's heart nearly broke at the sight. "Takeru…I…that's not true at all. I _loved_ you as my own son. If not by blood, then by spirit. You were _all_ that I had left, and the pride, the _joy_ I felt as I watched you grow up, it was _real!_"

Richard paused. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, gentle. "How can I explain a father's love for his son? I can't. It's not something that can be said in words. Perhaps when you grow up, and if you have children of your own, you'll understand what I'm saying. The unconditional love, and the constant yearning for you to become the best you can be. The heartache whenever you cried, the happiness whenever you laughed.

"Takeru, I never had children. I was never even married. But I know beyond a doubt that I've experienced what every father feels, because I loved you as my son. I won't deny it to myself, no matter what you think of me."

Kari watched as Takeru lowered himself tiredly onto his back. He seemed drawn as the initial fit of anger subsided. In its place was weariness. Weariness and sorrow. He rubbed his face with his hand as he struggled to grasp what was being thrown at him. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he spoke quietly.

"Richard. I...I'm sorry. I spoke in haste, in anger…" he sighed. Richard noticed that Takeru intentionally left out the word "father".

"But I just need some time…"

Slowly, Richard nodded. A small measure of relief, and genuine joy spread across his face as just a tiny bit of guilt was lifted off his shoulders. Taking his jacket, he spread the cloth over Takeru like a makeshift blanket. Gently tucking the boy in, he whispered softly. "I know it's a lot to swallow in one night. We'll talk more tomorrow. For now, just rest."

A long silence descended upon the trio, particularly between son, and surrogate father. Kari drew her knees up close to her chest, and gazed at the fire as it danced across the wood. Black night stretched in all directions. Then, her eyes unwittingly fell upon the royal sword, and upon the symbol engraved onto its pommel stone. 

She frowned as a lucid thought struck her.

"Mr…um…"

Richard gave her a weak smile. "Just call me what you normally would."

Kari nodded. She motioned towards the sword. "Mr. Richard sir, you said that that symbol is the crest of Ishida, right?"

"That's correct."

"And only the royal family of Ishida has this particular crest, and consequently, a stand. That's why Takeru has one. Other kingdoms and other bloodlines have different crests. The kingdom of _Sheid_ would have their own crest, as would the kingdom of _Jakt_."

Richard nodded.

"Takeru, did you dream of this symbol? When you were unconscious?"

Confused, Takeru nodded as well.

Kari seemed lost in thought as she stared at the gleaming symbol. Suddenly, she picked up a nearby twig. Smoothing the loamy earth with her free hand, she set the point of the stick into the ground, and began to draw.

"Then sir, what is this symbol?"

Frowning, Richard got up, and walked over to Kari's side. Curious, Takeru also peered at the picture she was drawing on the ground.

Slowly, the picture took shape. It was a simple diagram. A small central circle, from which radiated eight spokes or triangles. Four larger ones at right angles to one another, and four smaller ones in-between. A shining star, casting light upon whatever it touched.

Richard's eyes widened incredulously. He looked at the symbol, then at Kari, and finally back at the symbol again.

"_Where the hell did you learn of this symbol?!_"

** Author's notes: Geez. Quite a long chapter eh? Do you realize this has to be one of the first digimon fanfics written that focuses on the love between a PARENT and a SON? I have never, in all my time on ff.net, seen another fanfic that focuses on that particular relationship. ^_^

For the not so anime educated, "Shun Ten Satsu", Richard's succession technique, is actually a technique's name I stole off of the series "Rurouni Kenshin". It means, literally, "Instant Heaven Kill", and it's a technique of a character named Seta Soujiro. Remember that. It becomes important later on.

CHECK OUT THIS CONTEST!!!!

****

Digimon Fanfic Contest!

Hosted and judged by: TK Takaishi

Co-judged by: Kari (Karissa), TS, and Dreamwalker

What I've noticed lately, as I browse around the new fics coming in, is that almost ALL of the incoming fanfics are romance. And sadly, (for me at least, being Christian), more and more are becoming yaoi or yuri. There's only a fair scattering of sibling fics (I wrote one of them ^_^), and precious few friendship fics.

In fact, so much of it is romance that it's gotten to the point where it's starting to stifle creativity! And it's not just fics either. I turned on the radio today, and literally did a tally. Out of all the songs that they played, 90% of it was about romance. I'm not saying that romance is bad or anything, it's just that it's _overdone_!!

So here's my contest. You don't get a prize or anything, but you _do_ get recognition, and bragging rights. You'd be able to say on your profile "I won this award from TK Takaishi's contest…" etc.:

**__**

Confucius theorized about five different relationships:

  1. Subject and King (which in this context, could be modified to become digidestined / digimon)
  2. Husband and wife (lover / lover. Or romance)
  3. Sibling relationships, ie. brother / brother, brother / sister, or sister / sister
  4. Friend and friend
  5. Parental relationships, ie. father / son, or father / daughter, or mother / son…of you get the idea!

My challenge to you is to write a short story on any one of the above relationships, EXCEPT ROMANCE. That includes any yaoi, yuri, or incest. Anybody submit anything like that (yaoi / yuri / incest), and I'll throw it in the trash without reading it. 

Write a sibling fic on TK and Matt, or Tai and Kari, or even Ken and Osamu! Write a friendship fic between Tai and Matt, or Davis and Ken. Write a digimon / digidestined relationship fic. Kari and Gatomon, Tai and Agumon, Ken and Wormon, etc. I've always considered it incredibly ironic that this relationship is so lacking on ff.net, considering how much emphasis the series puts on it. Try something new! 

Has anyone ever written about the journey of Matt's band to fame? I smell a sibling fic, or a friendship fic right there! How about Sora's strained relationship with her mother in 01? When her mother prohibited her from going to that soccer game? That's a parental fic! Write about Cody's dad! Write about TK's novels! Write about TK and Matt being on opposing sides in the American Civil War! Substitute the name "Kari" in for the name "Fa Mulan", and write about her love for her father, or something like that! (I hope you know who Mulan is. If you don't, ask me, and I'll clarify it) You get the idea…

Be creative. Go wild. I'm trying to open up new ways of thinking here. You can put it in any setting you like, make it as AU as you like. Make the characters as old, or as young as you like. Make it as angsty, or as funny as you like.

Basically, I'm trying to prove that brotherly love, for example, could be just as beautiful as romantic love. There's so much more out there than romantic love!

**__**

Prizes:

  1. Best digimon / digidestined fic
  2. Best sibling fic
  3. Best friendship fic
  4. Best parental fic
  5. Best overall fic (it is possible for a fic to win this category, and any one of the previous four. A fic may win two prizes)
  6. Reader's choice: similar to Lace123's Takari contest, this one will be awarded to the story with the most reviews.

**__**

Tips on how to impress me:

If you're competing, I want you to be serious. I don't buy into this "I'm just writing for fun, so I might as well be careless about it, and produce a load of crap." Sure, I write for fun as well, but I also believe it's much more fun when you push yourself to do the best job you can. I'll be looking for things like theme, characterization, how well you manage to bring out emotions in readers. What's your message? What have you got to say about sibling love, for instance?

__

In other words, a fic that's nothing but WAFFY, happy fluff without a conflict will not impress me at all. I don't care if you put in fancy vocabulary and flashy descriptions like logan's "Stories of December" (which, BTW, was "mindless fluff". Hey, HE said it, not me!). 

I'm not impressed by your ability to string fancy sentences together. Any idiot with a thesaurus can do that. I AM impressed with meaning, the content of your ideas, and how well you manage to bring out emotions in your readers. **If your fic doesn't have a point, it won't get very far.**

**__**

Limitations:

  * NO ROMANCE!!
  * You may focus on only one of the above relationships in each fic
  * Each author may only submit two entries, and those entries must be in different categories. I don't want one really talented author to claim all the prizes.
  * ABSOLUTELY NO YAOI, YURI, or INCEST!! KEEP IT UNDER, OR EQUAL TO PG-13!!
  * Only single-chapter, short stories are accepted. No series. Sorry, but we judges aren't machines, you know.
  * It's perfectly permissible to submit a fic you've already written.

** __**

Last details:

To join up and compete, first, review this post. Even if you're not sure what category, which relationship, what title, etc, review anyway and tell me you're interested. _I need a rough idea of how many people will be competing to devise a judging system. _THEN, when you actually post the story, EMAIL ME DIRECTLY with the following info: 

  * Title of your fic
  * Your pen-name
  * The category you're competing under.

The judges, Kari (Karissa), Dreamwalker and TS, are also eligible to submit entries. But don't worry about bias. They won't be in charge of judging themselves, and I have final say in the winners. _I_ on the other hand, will not be submitting anything. Even if I do win something, it'll look so rigged, nobody'll believe me anyway. _*

I'm well aware that exams are coming up for all you students out there (including me). Submission deadline isn't until July 7th, plenty of time to write even _after_ exams are over. Then give me and the judges some time to, well…judge, and I'll post the winners!

Until then, good luck to you all! May the best author win!


	3. Default Chapter

The Tenken: Chapter 3

** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru and Hikari doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. So leave me alone you vultures!

**Author's notes**: **'Kay guys, first of all, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! Wow…I got 67 reviews! You don't understand, but Phawx and I have this rivalry thing going, and I just tied him in review numbers yesterday! Alright, enough rambling. On with the story. Contest update at the bottom.

****

The Age of Gods: Chapter Three

By: TK Takaishi

**** __

** one day later **

A light breeze ruffled the tall grass in the valley, creating ripples of green like waves on a lake. The sky was overcast, a dismal lead gray. Although it was mid-afternoon, the mountain valley was cold, void of the welcome warmth of the sun. The stark gray of mountain rock, and blinding white of summit snows surrounded the small, green oasis between the peaks.

An army was halted at the base of those great mountains. From afar, it looked like a dark smudge on the green land, a tide of black. Tents and temporary shelters were pitched; war-horses were tended to. Soldiers sat about cleaning and tending to their weapons. Shimmering scimitars were polished and sharpened. Some of the warriors had their masks off, and some of them had them on. A small fraction of the Imperial Army of Khaydarin but resplendent and impressive in military force nonetheless.

But as a whole, the army wasn't moving. They followed but one leader. And the leader was not ready. So the army was not ready. The time was not yet.

At the top of a cliff overlooking that army, a single man gazed impassively over his command. His dark, satin black cape billowed lightly in the breeze. Around him was arranged certain high-ranking commanders within the army, each indistinguishable beneath their Centurion's masks. 

The man's face was also hidden beneath a half-mask, but it was not the conventional battle masks of the common Khaydarin soldiers. The cold, dark metal seemed molded to the man's features leaving only slight, shaded slits for the eyes, and exposing his nose, jaw and mouth.

"You are certain of this?" his voice quiet, but commanding. It wasn't much more than a soft, conversational tone, but somehow, it cut across the sound of the wind and the rustling grass.

An observer would've seen this man's authority immediately. It was not that his underlings backed away in fear of him. Rather, it was the way they oriented themselves, arranged in parabolas around him, as if he was the center of gravity on the cliff and everything else was moved by the force of his presence.

Behind him, three Khaydarin soldiers kneeled, with one knee on the ground. Their battle masks lay on the ground, exposing their faces. The middle soldier raised his head at his master's voice. 

"Yes sir."

__

Praetor Caylor Ga'artred paused. "He shouted '_Shun Ten Satsu'_?" The strange words were pronounced with a strange, but almost musical accent.

"Yes sir."

Then Caylor was silent. _Shun Ten Satsu._ The devastating succession technique had been developed nearly a hundred years ago, and had been passed down through the generations from master to pupil. It was unique only to the once legendary Ishida knights. There were few attacks in the world that could even come close to rivaling its destructive power. And from the description, this…"farmer" had apparently mastered it.

But that was nothing in comparison to what else he was hearing.

His dark cape swirled about him as he turned away from his army and towards the three soldiers. Kneeling down, he examined closely the two rough sketches that the soldiers had reproduced on paper.

"You say that this mark here," he said as his black-gloved finger tapped lightly upon one of the sketches, "appeared on the boy's chest." Lightly, he traced the outline of the rising meteor.

"Not just appeared, my Lord. It…it _glowed_." The soldier hesitated, then forged on. "And when it did, he seemed to become a warrior possessed. We were powerless to stop him."

"Describe the boy."

"He had blond hair and light blue eyes. He was young, no more than fourteen. Small and light of body, though of medium height."

"Did he have a stand?"

"None that I could discern sir. No incarnation, just a glowing, golden aura. It's as if he barely has control over it."

"And this?" Caylor tapped the other sketch. "Where did this appear?" The sketch resembled a morning star.

The Khaydarin footsoldiers looked at one another. "On the girl's chest, my Lord," the leader finally responded. "Except this one was a pure white in colour, and did not glow nearly as brightly. I might have missed it if I wasn't looking. But it was there."

"And what did _she_ look like?"

"The girl was also about fourteen. Truth to be told, neither of the children struck me as impressive. They were both clad in the plain attire of mountain children, and neither of them looked to possess great strength. The girl had chestnut brown hair and crimson eyes. Both of them had a light complexion."

Caylor seemed to frown behind his mask. A slight note of surprise sounded in his voice. "The girl was fair?"

"Yes sir."

"Think carefully before you reply."

"Yes sir." The soldier's voice was firm. "She was fair."

This time, Caylor was silent for nearly a minute.

The crest of Ishida did not come as a complete shock. Neither had the _Shun Ten Satsu._ After all, this army had been sent to find just such a boy and his guardian.

And the description fit. The Queen of Ishida had been blond with blue eyes. It was quite conceivable that her son would take after her in terms of appearance. Even the age was right. If one took into account all the years since the Age of Gods, the boy would have been fourteen.

But the other crest…

__

Praetor Caylor Ga'artred was an avid student of history, well versed in the stories of Gaea. At the beginning of the Age of Gods, and the first appearances of the stand-masters, the Ishida bloodline was only one out of six families blessed with the power of the stand. The infamous names, _Sheid_, _Fan-Tzui_, _Jakt, Ishida _and _Chironsala_ were known to every child old enough to understand stories. 

Among them, was the bloodline of the kingdom of _Yagami_, a geographically small, but politically and financially powerful country. The morning star was _their_ crest. The _Yagami_ stand-masters were reputed to be generally peaceful, perhaps the most peaceful of the Council. But legend also had it that if provoked, the House of _Yagami_ was capable of bending the very elements to their will.

More importantly though, was that unlike Ishida, Khaydarin was _certain_ that every last member of Yagami had been killed. They had seen and burnt the bodies themselves.

And here, the description did _not_ fit.

The Yagami bloodline had been black, invariably with dark hair, and brown-black skin and eyes. There was _no possible way_ this…peasant girl…had been born of Yagami blood. It was not a question of historical probability but a question of biology and logical reason. Even if she had tried to disguise herself with make-up, there was no way to duplicate crimson eyes.

So how did it come to pass that she possessed the Crest of Yagami?

"What game are You playing here?" he murmured softly.

"Sir?"

Caylor didn't bother to reply as he continued to think. Could it be possible? God worked in many mysterious ways, and his paths and wishes were not for mere mortals to know. 

Or was it?

"And where are they now?" The _Praetor_ drilled a sharp glare at the kneeling soldiers.

The leader gulped visibly. "I…I don't know sir. We had to retreat. The enemy was too strong for us. The rest of our unit was killed effortlessly…"

"In other words, you have no idea where they are."

"Y-yes, my Lord."

[[Caylor stood up, finished with his inspection of the crests. In his mind, he shelved the dilemma for now. The question of God's will could be addressed later. Right now, he had a stand-master to hunt down, and a problem to deal with. He stepped back, and gazed at the three soldiers together. "Who gave the order to retreat?"

A long pause. Then the first soldier raised his head. "I did sir."

Caylor tilted his head. The soldier's battle mask was off, and his face was young, with dark-brown hair, and stormy, gray-coloured eyes. "What is your name, sub-centurion?" he said, reading the rank off the golden stripes on the soldier's collar.

"They call me Locke sir. Locke Dimak."

"Stand up, sub-centurion Locke Dimak. Look at me." Slowly, the soldier stood up, but refused to meet Caylor's penetrating gaze. The other two gazed fixedly at the ground with fear. A deadly silence fell over the gathered assembly as everyone watched with baited breath. _Praetor_ Caylor was a relatively new commander, but other _Praetors_ of the Imperial Army did not take failure lightly.

A failed mission was often punishable by death, effective immediately.

"Your orders were to kill any survivors. Yet, when you found three Kurtalians, you retreated without killing them. Why?" The _Praetor_ stood at ease. Frighteningly emotionless.

The sub-centurion took a deep breath. "Sir, these were not normal Kurtalians. We could not defeat them. I would gladly have given my life for the Empire, but I deemed it more important to return."

"Why? Why, in your opinion, had the battle already been lost? And why was it more important to return?"

By now, Locke was trembling. But to his credit, he did not back down, he did not beg. Instead, he drew himself up and looked the _Praetor_ in the eye. 

"Because I possessed information that was vital to the army of Khaydarin. I have already described the battle to you in detail, my Lord. The instant that the knight who wielded the _Shun Ten Satsu_ killed our Centurion, I knew there was no way I could defeat the enemy. The boy alone was dangerous enough. With the knight, it was hopeless.

"I also realized that perhaps this was what we were looking for. The existence of said knight, the stand-master of _Ishida_, and the stand-master of _Yagami._ I would serve no purpose for the Empire dead, and thus decided to retreat with all due haste to bring this information to you."

Caylor nodded. The other two soldiers on the ground cowered. The _Praetor_ was not a physically imposing man. Although he was tall, he was also built rather slim. Caylor scorned armour, opting instead for a simple dark tunic, and a mask. Not at all like the other _Praetors_, who dressed themselves in fine, jewel-encrusted body armour, and golden sashes, as befitted their position.

Yet when he wished, his presence was huge, imposing. He maintained an aura of _power_, of _might_. His eyes, hidden behind his mask seemed to be able to discern all, laying the souls of those he gazed upon naked. He was the _Praetor_, a terrible godly figure, all-knowing, all-discerning. 

It was easy to see how the _Praetor_ had risen to what was possibly the highest rank a soldier could hope to achieve in his lifetime at such a young age. 

"Locke Dimak," Caylor purposely dropped the title 'sub-centurion'. "You have had a day to think over your actions. In your opinion, was there anything you could have done better?"

The sub-centurion shuddered, then steeled himself determinedly. "No sir, with all due respect, I don't think so. I have reflected upon my actions countless times, and I do not believe there was any better way. I made a judgement call, and I still stand by it."

Caylor nodded approvingly. Turning, he gazed at his army once again. _His_ army. "You have done well, Locke." The two soldiers on the ground stared incredulously at their master. To their complete and utter amazement, Caylor nodded at them.

This _Praetor_ was different.

"You made a quick decision on the battlefield, which resulted in a chance for us to strike back. Others would do well to learn from you, so that defeat is not disgrace. The Khaydarin Empire needs bright leaders like you, who aren't afraid to take the initiative. Your unit's Centurion died, didn't he?"

Locke nodded numbly. "Yes sir. He was killed by the _Shun Ten Satsu_."

"He was a fool anyway. If he had come back alive, I would've killed him myself." Caylor's words were underscored with ice. "A Khaydarin soldier does not delight in torturing his victims. He had no business calling himself a warrior for the Imperial Army."

A shiver ran down Locke's spine. Caylor may be different, but he was still a _Praetor_, and treated as such.

"I hereby promote you to Centurion, to be given command of your own unit. Given unto you will be all the power and privileges as befitting your new rank. Your first assignment is to seek out the stand-master and his guardian. Dismissed, _Centurion_ Locke."

Locke stood dumb-founded, as the surrounding officers and soldiers fell silent. This _Praetor_ was different. Any other commander, and Locke and his men would have been slaughtered on the spot. The temper of past _Praetors_ had been legendary. But this one was _different_. Caylor have him a slight, glacial smile.

"Go Centurion. Your unit awaits you."

"T-thank you sir," Locke stammered as he backed away. "I am honoured- "

Caylor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Instead, he turned to his other subordinates. "Break camp. We march back for Kurtal. This army moves out within the hour. Trackers and scouts move ahead of the main body of the army to try and pick up their trail before it gets too cold. If it takes me forever, I _will_ find those two stand-masters…"

Startled out of their sudden paralysis, the two soldiers on the ground leapt to their feet, and ran off. The rest of the soldiers dispersed to do their commander's bidding with newfound alacrity and purpose.

If the army had been willing to follow _Praetor_ Caylor Ga'artred before, they were now ready to die for him.]]1

__

** three weeks later **

Deep in the heart of the trackless, mountain forests, a small clearing parted the trees. The warm afternoon sunlight filtered softly down through the mottled trees to cast speckled shadows on the loamy ground.

"This clearing is your world. Your universe."

Richard's voice broke the silence. The clearing was still as Takeru stood within the large circle carved into the ground by Richard's sword. In his hand, he gripped the royal sword of Ishida. Opposite him, Richard stood, feet askance in a relaxed stance, sword drawn.

"There is nothing outside of this instant, this moment. _Nothing_. You will not be distracted, because there is nothing to distract you, past or future. There is only the here and now. Your sword will find its mark because that is all there is to hit in the world."

"Khaydarin-" Takeru started.

"Does not exist until I say it exists."

The boy fell silent. On the sidelines, Kari watched curiously. The little place in the woods was secluded, deep in the mountain forests, where no one could find them. It was where the three of them had taken refuge after fleeing from Kurtal.

In truth, the boy had been training with a sword ever since he was eight. Richard had passed onto Takeru many of his own techniques. But as the boy was finding out, there was still a lot to learn.

"As we progress, your shall train to narrow your focus down to a pinpoint. But until then, this shall suffice." The young boy and the old man bowed to one another. Then the former knight adopted a defensive stance, his blade at the ready.

"Attack me, using any one of the stances I taught you. Come at me as if you wish to kill me."

Takeru hesitated. "Father…" He was far too used to calling Richard "father" to stop now.

"Do it." The man's stance didn't waver, but he did crack a small grin. "If you manage to scratch me, I'll gather firewood for the next week." Then the grin faded. Standing stock-still, he became like a statue of stone, unblinking as he waited for the attack.

The boy paused a little longer, then raised the blade with a determined gleam in his eyes. In his hands, the beautiful katana felt like a live thing. The balance was perfect. The sword felt like it could be balanced on the tip of a pin. The razor-sharp blade shimmered lightly in the sunlight, and the hilt felt molded into his grip.

Kari watched with wide-eyed interest as the boy chose his stance. 

There were ten, basic stances used in _Kenjitsu_, or the martial art of sword fighting. And hundreds of variations on each stance. Each was used for varying situations, from guarded defense (_Ela_ stance), to vicious offense (_Tenkei_ stance). 

In this case, the boy chose a relatively conservative _Battou_ stance.

Takeru was well aware that his left shoulder was still incapable of any maneuvers requiring strength. Sheathing the blade, the boy oriented himself sideways, presenting his stronger right side to his opponent. His right shoulder dipped closer to the ground, and his hand hovered near the hilt of the sheathed sword on his left, ready to draw and strike like a serpent, as his feet spread out for better stability. The draw and strike tended to enhance the speed of the attack by almost two to three times.

The two remained motionless for a long moment, Takeru poised precariously on his attack stance, Richard grounded like a rock into his defensive stance. Two stone statues, unyielding. An almost meditative silence spread across the clearing. 

Then Takeru attacked.

It became apparent that his injury had not affected his speed at all. With cat-like grace, Takeru charged from one end of the circle to the other in a split second, his blade slicing outwards in a blurred, silver arc.

A resounding crash and a shower of sparks erupted as Richard crouched and deflected the blade deftly. Takeru wasn't finished, however. Spinning around, he did the unthinkable and struck out viciously with the _sheath_ in his left hand.

The _Battousai_ (sword and sheath technique). Often the best time to counter-strike was right after a powerful swing, when your opponent was off-balance. The second blow with the sheath served as a follow-up blow that often caught unwary swordsmen too eager to exploit their advantage. And Takeru pulled off the difficult _Battou_ derivative with minute precision and speed, aiming the blow at Richard's chin.

Except Richard's chin wasn't there. 

Throwing himself backward, the former knight avoided the blow deftly. Without pausing, Takeru withdrew his blade quickly, and slashed out with a backhand attack, aimed at Richard's throat, sheath held up in defense. Once started, the _Battousai_ must be carried through to the end. There was no backing off, or the momentum of the attack would be lost. For a few moments, a vicious parrying match ensued as Takeru pushed the knight back relentlessly.

In response, Richard's sword began weaving in a complex series of mind-bending feints, parries, and thrusts. Three parries to the blade, then a particularly savage blow to the hilt. Startled, Takeru's sword was wrenched out of his hand. His sheath followed a heartbeat later. Before the boy could blink, Richard had swept his feet out from under him. Lying flat on the ground, Takeru looked up to see the gleaming blade poised at the tip of his throat, with the knight's arm drawn back for a killing thrust.

A second later, Takeru's sword buried itself blade-first into the loamy earth a good ten feet away. The whole thing had lasted less than a heartbeat.

It was a long moment before Richard finally lowered his blade. "You're getting better Takeru, but you're still not charging aggressively enough. When I say 'come at me as if you mean to kill me', I mean it."

On the ground, Takeru panted lightly, a small grin on his face. "Hey, at least I scratched you…"

Richard looked down to see the tiny cut on his left hand. "So you did." He sighed. "That's the last time I'm making a bet. You're getting too good, and I'm getting too old for this…"

Then the light banter faded. Takeru's face turned serious. "Besides, you know I never liked mortal sword combat."

Richard arched an eyebrow. "That's a poor sentiment for the King of Ishida to hold…"

Takeru looked away. "Would you please stop calling me that? It's not like I _asked_ to be born of Royal blood," he said quietly.

Richard sighed, but he let the boy be. Instead, he offered his hand to the boy. "Come on, that's enough training for now. You should take a break."

"How's the shoulder?" Kari chipped in concernedly from where she stood on the sidelines.

Takeru took the offered hand, and grimaced as he pulled himself up. "It still hurts," he admitted as he walked over and sat down beside Kari, nursing his shoulder. "But not as much. I can do some limited maneuvering with it."

Richard retrieved the boy's sword from where it was sticking out of the ground. "That's good. That was a pretty nasty thrust wound you received. A lesser person might have died on the spot. But of course, considering that you're…"

"Don't say it."

Richard frowned. "Why not?"

Takeru remained silent.

"Takeru, you have to face the truth sooner or later. You are _not_ a mountain farmer boy. You are more than that. You are a _stand-master_."

Beside him, Kari gently took the boy's hand. "Takeru, what exactly is the matter? _I_ accepted it. It took some time, but I did. Both of us, we're _more_ than what we thought we were. We possess something special. Something to be borne with pride, not with shame."

"Three weeks ago," The boy's voice was heated. Angry. "My name was 'Takeru Takaishi', a simple mountain boy. Now all of a sudden, I'm supposed to be the Crown Prince of Ishida? And just _because_ of that, you're telling me I have to save the world? To be the next Adun? _It's too much!_ I'm too weak, too young. I can't do this!"

Richard opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Kari shook her head. Instead, she spoke in a quiet voice. "Regardless of what you think, God has _chosen _you. You are his servant, called to do his will. And he loves you, more than anything. If He believes you can do it, you can do it. What? You don't trust _God's_ judgement?

"Don't you find it incredible? That God has given you enlightenment, something more than others?"

Takeru laughed grimly. "Kari, I wish I could have your faith. Things would be so much simpler. But have you heard the proverb of the enlightened man?"

Kari shook her head.

"There once was a wise man. He thirsted constantly for knowledge. And so he studied, and learned all he could. But the more he learned, the more he realized how much he could _never_ learn. And so, he asked God for total enlightenment. He asked, 'Lord, grant me all thy knowledge, everything there is to know on earth.'

"And God granted his prayer. He does cruel things like that sometimes. It was more than a mere mortal could bear. All the grief, hurt, hatred and anger in the world, the man understood it, all too well.

"So in response, the wise man went and drowned himself because it was the only logical thing left to do."

Richard sighed. "Takeru, you don't really believe in that, do you?"

Takeru looked away. "Father, to be honest, I'm not sure anymore…"

A long moment passed while as they contemplated the question in silence. The small, afternoon breeze blew gently through the clearing.

It was Kari that broke the silence.

"It's not true"

Takeru turned to look at her as she continued.

"Let's put aside the question of faith for now. A true God would want only the best for his subjects. He wouldn't be interested in keeping control, because he will always be in control. He just _is_. He would want to teach us to be just like him, to act like him. He'd teach, train and share, but never force. 

"Takeru, if you _do_ choose to renounce your heritage, nobody can stop you. _If _you choose to ignore your gift, that's your right. It's a choice you have to make yourself. All we can do is support you along your way, and provide you with all the information you need. And God is _not_ what you're making Him out to be."

Takeru sat quietly as he listened to Kari's words. He sighed and lay down on his back, allowing the cool, mottled blue-green shade of the foliage to play across his face. "What you're describing isn't God.

"You're describing parents. And not just that. You're describing _good_ parents. There are plenty of parents who abandon and neglect their children." From where the boy had come from, he had seen plenty of that. 

"To want with all your heart to share the good things that you have, and to spare people the bad things if you could. To rejoice in seeing people around you grow and mature, until _they_ begin to want to teach and share all about the happiness they've found. That is _goodness_."

Kari's smile was triumphant. "But isn't that what God is? A loving parent?"

**********

__

Darkness…

This is how it should be. This was how it was before God created the accursed light. This is how it's going to end.

Within this realm, the demon languished in his true form. Within the utterly impenetrable stone walls, it was at home, without fear of being scathed by the light…

But hark! Who approaches?

Praetor Caylor Ga'artred was communing.

There was nothing. The outside world didn't exist. Firmly, he clamped an imaginary hand over his eyes, and an imaginary hand over his ears. The world was an illusion. He was ascending, and _this_ realm was far more real than the dreamworld the others called "reality".

There was the familiar rush. The sense of disorientation, as if he had been _lifted_. And then he was there.

Looking down, he saw himself clad in the same dress as he had been before he slipped into the trance. The dark robes, the simple regalia of a warrior. At his side hung his sword. Touching his face, his fingers brushed against cold metal. His mask was still in place. His physical body was still there.

Or was it? Was it just his mind? His psyche? 

His _stand?_

But the world was _different_.

This was a plane above reality. The plane of thought, of emotion. Nothing but darkness stretched out in all directions. There was no up. There was no down. There was no distance, no _whereness_, because it was only he, in an unending void. 

Did such relativistic concepts even apply in this realm? Did the notion of distance, location, and even _duration_ exist here? Things existed only if he decreed them to exist. Here, reality itself bended to his will, objects shadows of thought.

Some said it was a plane closer to heaven. 

__

Or, the _Praetor_ mused grimly, _a plane closer to hell._

It was a place few could reach. In the past, stand-masters had been known to achieve this plane, and commune with each across great physical distances. However, at present, Caylor knew of no others beside himself, and his master that could reach it. 

Of course, if the news he heralded was true, there would soon be more that could reach it. At least two. Maybe six. It all depended…

_You are here._ The voice seemed to come from all directions at once. Whispering, almost silent, but in the void, it sounded as clearly as a bell. Deep and sonorous, but with an edge of bitter menace.

The _Praetor_ dropped to his knee, kneeling on the void. _How is that possible?_

Your servant is here.

_What is it that you wish to tell me?_

All of a sudden, the _Praetor_ was not alone.

Coalescing from motes of darkness, a vortex of blue-black shimmered silently before him, resolving itself into a humanoid figure. Its jet-black skin blended perfectly with the utter darkness, black upon black. Indistinguishable save for a thin bluish sheen of reflected light around its muscular frame. A pair of piercing, glowing eyes affixed themselves onto the _Praetor's_ kneeling form. Fiery embers of hate and violence, glowing hellish red in the darkness.

More than that, the Caylor could not tell.

For the darkness seemed to shroud him like a tangible cloak. The Emperor never revealed more of himself than was necessary, even to his strong right hand. The figure seemed to shimmer in the darkness, parts appearing and reappearing. Caylor knew that this was not the Emperor's physical self. That was back on the Island of _Akeldama_, deep in the stronghold of Khaydarin, and _that_ was almost three month's march away. But this was his mental image, a disguise donned like a mask. 

The _Praetor_ had suspected at first that the Emperor was a stand-master to achieve this plane, but had rejected the idea a long time ago. Stand-masters did not possess the ever-present shroud of darkness that seemed to follow the Emperor. Stand-masters did not have the cold, dark and baleful light that this man possessed. He was a flickering phantom, _there_, but never truly _seen…_

I bring important news, my Emperor. It may change everything.

__

The stand-master?

Yes, my Lord. And…more than that.

Even as the _Praetor_ spoke the words, he thought of them. He _shaped_ them with the language of his mind, thought shapes much clearer than simple, spoken language, yet so strange and dimensionless they could never be described to someone who lacked the ability. It would literally be like trying to describe a sixth sense.

A flash of light erupted on his right, summoned by the _Praetor's_ will. Out of the shimmering vortex that was reality here, a small form solidified. An image of a small boy, young and innocent. Blond hair and blue eyes flashed alarmingly bright in such a dark background. On his chest gleamed the crest of Ishida, flashing with a fierce golden brilliance.

The cowled figure hissed.

__

Ah, after fourteen years, you have found him then. So, our elusive prince has taken after his mother in appearance.

According to the accounts of my soldiers, this boy's name is 'Takeru'. The knight has apparently decided to keep the boy's first name, as 'Takeru' has been his name since birth. I have no idea what his surrogate last name is.

__

Have you destroyed him yet?

No.

__

This is most unlike you, Praetor_ Caylor. You are rarely so careless._

I was not careless. There is more. It would seem we have more problems to deal with than a single, rogue stand-master.

Beside the image of Takeru, two more flashes of light emerged. Richard flared into existence, his sword drawn. And Kari also appeared, the crest of _Yagami_ glowing a pure, snow-white on her chest. The brown hair of the image floated briefly in the void.

__

What is this? More survives?

Three weeks ago, a unit of my soldiers found these three in the small village of Kurtal, in the heart of the great _Novinha_ mountain ranges of the west. Seven soldiers of the ten-man unit were destroyed, but the survivors managed to report back to me. What you see here is what they have described. We are currently attempting to track these three, but the mountains are hampering our efforts.

Looking at the mental image of Richard, Caylor nodded. 

We do not know much about this man. All we know is that he is a master of the _Shun Ten Satsu_, one of the last of the legendary Ishida knights, and thus a force to be reckoned with. It is safe to assume that it is _he_ who has fathered our elusive prince for all these years.

__

And he has done a remarkably good job, to keep the prince hidden from us for so long. Not surprising, considering he's a knight of the Ishidan _order._

No. That is not surprising in itself. But the girl has _also_ exhibited a crest, as you can see. The crest of _Yagami_, element of light. She is undoubtedly a stand-master. Never, in all my years as a soldier, have I heard of such a gathering of potential power in one place. An Ishidan knight, and _two_ stand-masters.

__

Was she with the Ishidan prince?

Yes, my Lord.

__

Is she of royal blood?

No. She is white.

A long pause ensued as the cowled figure, shrouded in shadows, slowly studied the mysterious figure of Kari.

__

How is that possible? How can someone not of royal blood possess a stand?

The _Praetor_ remained silent. He had a theory, but he was sure that his master would come to the same conclusion anyway. The question was rhetorical.

Fifteen years ago, his master, the Emperor of Khaydarin, had wiped out almost all of God's servants. After five hundred years, the Council had finally fallen. Within the space of three weeks, five of the six great bloodlines of stand-masters had been completely extinguished, every last member slaughtered. 

And all of a sudden, Gaea was without the leadership of the Godspoken.

The only one remaining was the bloodline of _Ishida_, and even that line was precarious at best. Caylor gazed at the mental image of Takeru he had conjured. The young, blond boy. Just _one_ surviving member. The last remaining link in a long line of Emperors. Kill him, and that line would be extinguished as well.

And so what had God done? To combat the dark Empire of Khaydarin? To restore the balance?

__

Damn Him and his meddling ways. Even as we were destroying the Council, He created new bloodlines. A new generation of stand-masters, perhaps greater than the last…

The Emperor's figure withdrew, and faded away into the darkness. His form shimmered, and became translucent, then transparent, then nonexistent. But his voice, his soft, whispering voice remained.

Praetor_ Caylor, my trusted right hand. If our plans are to succeed, this threat must be eliminated here and now. Within five or six years, we will be ready. Soon, the next _Seihad_ will be at hand, and we will be ready to claim back what is ours. But _this_, this must not be allowed. Even God himself must not interfere in our plans. _

Find them all. Find the boy. Find the girl. If this is true, and He really is_ starting new bloodlines, then this girl is only the first of a new generation. Find the new stand-masters. Hunt them down one by one if need be, but _find_ them._

And when you do, destroy them.

**Author's notes: Ngg…I actually don't like this chapter at all, and I have a feeling that that impression is mutual. Any prospective authors out there, here's a word of wisdom for you. Novel-sized projects are a MAJOR headache. This entire chapter, in fact, this entire saga is nothing but setup, setup, setup…and did I mention setup? As a result, it came off sounding kinda forced… (make that really forced)

Goes to show you I've still got a long way to go. -_-…Oh well, hope you can bear with me until I get my inspiration back.

Contest is still on. There are currently 23 people who have expressed interest to me, either through email or review. If you're interested, it's not too late to sign up! In case you missed it, contest details are in chapter two. Five people have already submitted entries, and yes, I've read every one of them. ^_^ Some impressive talent ff.net's got floating around. Come on people! Dazzle me!

1. That section outlined above is adapted from Timothy Zahn's Star Wars book "The Last Command", pg. 67-69. Bantam books 1991. It does not belong to me either. (No duh…)


	4. Default Chapter

The Tenken: Chapter 4

** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru and Hikari doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. So leave me alone you vultures!

**** ****

The Age of Gods: Chapter Four

By: TK Takaishi

****

"So…this is a _wakizashi_?"

Kari stared curiously, almost reverently at the small, slim blade she held in her hands. The sword was small, about three quarters the length of Takeru's _Ishidan_ katana, but sharp enough to slice steel like paper. The long hilt, approximately the length of her forearm, was bound with black leather, just like Takeru's weapon. It had apparently been designed as a lighter alternative to the conventional katana, but with more reach and power than the _kodachi_. 'Assassin's weapon', if you may, but Kari didn't like the term. She preferred 'light-weight sidearm'.

Richard nodded with satisfaction. "That's it. I didn't know you knew the actual term. This particular _wakizashi_ has been with me for years. It's served me since the beginning when I first began my apprenticeship as a knight, and it's remained one of my favourite weapons."

"Since you _began_ as a knight?! But that must've been at least twenty years ago!"

Richard grinned. "Twenty-five actually. It's a durable weapon . Not a chip on it, the blade's as sharp as the day it was forged."

It was true. The blade gleamed softly in the late afternoon sunlight that filtered through the forest's foliage. Kari ran a finger along the razor-sharp edge, then "pinged" the steel shaft with her index finger. The clear, sharp tone of honed steel rang softly. She was no expert on swords, but even she could tell instinctively that this was an excellent weapon.

Richard and Kari were alone in the clearing that had served as their home for the past couple weeks. The knight's strategy had been to wait and stay secluded, for however long it might take, while he trained his apprentices. 

At the moment, Takeru was off scouting the area, looking for another likely campsite in case they had to leave their current one. Not too far off, Richard had warned him, but they _did_ after all need to be prepared.

"This blade has served me well. As I grew up from a boy into a man, I began to prefer my current sword, a full-fledged katana. But the _wakizashi_ remained my light weapon of choice. Whenever I needed something light-to-carry, and quick-to-use, I chose this weapon. I think this'll suit you well." Richard said with a grin. "Small, light and deadly."

As Kari waved the _wakizashi_ around experimentally, she marveled at its well-tuned balance. The flickering sunlight flashed off the gleaming blade. Then Richard's words sunk in. 

"Sir? You want me to _fight_ with this?"

A devilish grin spread across Richard's features. Drawing his own blade, he made an elaborate show of kissing the hilt, and bowing to the girl, the ritual of the sparring partner. "You bet I do. You said yourself, you wanted to be strong, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I…"

"Defend yourself, little lady."

"But…but…"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to _really_ attack you." Although the sword-master's face was set into a mock stern expression, his eyes twinkled with amusement. "But now that we know you're a stand-master, I consider it as my divine duty to tell you everything I know about _Kenjitsu_. And when I'm done with you, you'll be as good as Takeru."

Kari raised her eyebrow, even as she hefted the _wakizashi_ higher in response to the challenge. "Hmm...don't blame me if I resist. I _do_ know a little about _Ken_- "

"Enough. Defend yourself."

Suddenly, Richard was right in front of her, his blade already weaving in a complex, seemingly random pattern. Startled, Kari leapt back out of striking range. Richard pursued. There was no laughter in his eyes now. His voice was serious, a _sensei_ instructing his pupil.

"I am your enemy. Only I can teach you how to fight, destroy and conquer. In battle, it will not be a friendly _sensei_. It will not be a gentle friend like Takeru. It will be a savage opponent who will stop at nothing to grind you into the ground. And the only way to stop him doing that to you, is for you to do it to him first. I am that savage opponent. Strike me down if you can."

As Kari began to get the hang of it, she experimented with several strikes of her own. Richard parried them easily. At first her attacks were clumsy and slow, but as the rally went on and on, they began to get swifter, surer, stronger. A small frown of puzzlement began to crease Richard's forehead, but he kept talking.

"Elbow up a little, keep your sword up! _Up!_ Keep on the balls of your feet, always ready to move. Don't just look at my blade. Look at me. My mannerisms, my stance, my eyes. Where am I going to strike next? Where am I weak? Where am I strong?"

The mock fight had already extended for several minutes. A true sparring match almost never lasted for more than a heartbeat, but Richard was intentionally prolonging it. Round and round the forest clearing they clashed. Kari almost seemed to be enjoying it. Not with a bloodthirsty appreciation, but an exhilaration in the smooth, liquid motions of fencing, the intricacies of parry and strike, slide and feint. _Kenjitsu_ in its purest form, as an art.

"Harder! Put your elbow and wrist into it. It's more flexible that way. Aim for the nine targets of _Kenjitsu_. Head, left shoulder, right shoulder, right waist, left waist, left leg and right leg, crotch, and chest. Go for all of them! Vary your attacks!"

Kari responded with a particularly savage stroke, aimed at Richard's head. A blinding series of rippling explosions traveled up Richard's blade as Kari sought to overcome his defense. It was a move that Takeru had shown her once, demonstrating it against a sapling. 

The girl could still remembered how the sapling had been demolished.

In response, the former knight locked blades with Kari's _wakizashi_. Sliding his sword quickly along Kari's blade, he hooked her hilt neatly, and wrenched the _wakizashi _free. Kari lost her balance and fell as the blade tumbled end over end across the clearing, embedding itself into the ground several meters away.

"Enough! Enough!" the knight roared. Putting his hands on his waist, he gazed curiously at the girl sitting before him. "Ms. Kamiya. Where the hell did you learn to fence like that?"

Kari panted for breath on the ground. "Takeru showed me a couple moves, and the basics of stance and position, a long time ago. Mother disapproved. She was afraid of me falling into the same fate as my father, but she couldn't stop me." She glanced ruefully at her _wakizashi_ embedded in the ground. "Apparently Takeru didn't teach me well enough."

"I thought I recognized that _Kamuvei_ parry technique..." the knight muttered under his breath. "Well, what did you expect? That you'd defeat a knight of the Ishidan order on your first try?" Richard snorted as he offered a hand to the girl, helping her back onto her feet. Then he settled back into a defensive stance.

"Again. And try to be faster. That blade has to become a natural extension of your arm, as much a part of your body as your head of your leg."

And so they did it again. And again. Each time, Kari got better and better, as she began wielding the _wakizashi_ boldly and confidently. It was impossible to beat Richard, of course, but she learned a lot about _Kenjitsu_ in that hour and a half than at any other time in her life. And all through the lesson, Richard kept talking.

Eventually, Richard called a break, and Kari flopped down exhausted on the grass. Her body was covered in sweat. Even Richard was panting slightly as he sheathed his sword.

"As you progress and get better with your weapon, we'll begin adding some new stuff. How to use a cloak to conceal your movements, and confuse your enemy for example. A cloak, together with a dagger, can sometimes be an effective combination."

Then he paused as he cocked his head. He gave Kari an appraising look.

"Kari, I'll be frank. You are at about the skill level of an apprentice who has been practicing with his or her weapon for a month. And you accomplished it in an hour and a half. The only other pupil I know who has taken up _Kenjitsu_ so phenomenally fast is Takeru. And he…well…I was kind of expecting that."

Kari dusted herself off as she retrieved her _wakizashi_. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you're just getting old." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "Do you think I'll ever be strong? Like you? Like Takeru?"

Richard tossed the girl a sheath, a stiff affair made of leather. The girl caught it and sheathed the _wakizashi_ carefully. Then, the knight put away his own sheathed weapon as well as he pondered the question.

"That remains to be seen. For you, _and_ for Takeru. The fundamentals, how to wield a blade, that is no problem. I have never seen anyone so proficient with _Kenjitsu_ at such an early age as you two. Perhaps such things, like I said, didn't need to be taught. It was instinctive. As natural as walking, or talking, or breathing.

"But true strength does not spring from such as these. The stand-masters didn't become powerful because of their stands. People followed them because they respected their visions. People followed them because they were good. 

"Because above all, they always lead for the good of the people. Their inner spirit, their courage and compassion. That was their strength."

Kari nodded. "So then- "

It was then that a blinding pain erupted inside her brain. She fell to her knees as she clutched at her head, her eyes squeezed shut. 

__

Her left shoulder throbbed, afire with agony. Her heart lurched as it suddenly began beating at a furious pace. She couldn't breathe, couldn't gasp. A torrent of emotions raced through her mind. Fear, anger, hate…

And underneath it all, an overwhelming sadness...

"Kari? Kari, speak to me! What the hell happened?"

The next thing Kari noticed was Richard's face peering concernedly at her. She was lying on the ground. _I must've blacked out for a second_, she thought slowly. The constant rage was subsiding now, fading back to a dull pressure in the back of her mind. In its place, rational thought returned, slowly drifting back to the surface like debris after a storm of emotions.

"Takeru…" she whispered.

"What?"

"There's something wrong…" She got up unsteadily, bracing herself against Richard as she stood up. "I…what the hell just happened…"

Richard's eyes suddenly widened in alarm. In recognition. "Kari." He grasped her shoulders tightly as he drilled her with a suddenly intense gaze. "What did you feel? What ran through your mind? Images? Emotions? Thoughts? _What did you feel?_"

"It's…it's like…suddenly seeing and hearing someone else's thoughts all of a sudden." She clutched her head in confusion. "No, that's not it. It's like…_sensing_ someone…. I can't describe it! Fear, incredible hatred and rage. Almost like a battle rage. And underneath it all, an overwhelming sadness."

Richard however, was suddenly full of grim urgency. "Let me put this another way. Where did it come from?"

Kari shook Richard's hands off. Shaking her head to clear it, she pointed west. "Over there, and don't ask me how I know, I just- "

But Richard was not listening. Taking hold of Kari's arm, he began dragging her towards the west at a run. "Come on. We have to get there fast. I have a hunch Takeru's in trouble."

"But Richard, why? Just because I suddenly had a migraine?"

Richard shook his head, never once slackening his pace. "That, is the final proof that you and Takeru are stand-masters. Perhaps you didn't know this, but one of the abilities of stand-masters was that they could communicate with each other over long distances. With their stands."

Kari's eyes widened. "So, what I just felt…was Takeru being- "

Then, she sucked in a quick breath of surprise.

Richard's eyes took in the scene at once. Takeru was panting as he stood, his _Ishidan_ katana drawn and bared. At his feet lay three, black-clad soldiers, dead from surgical strikes to their bodies. Blood had been sprayed liberally around the clearing, staining the grass, and splattered across Takeru's features. The boy's shoulder was bleeding again, the crimson stain spreading on the clean white bandage as his chest heaved for breath. His slight body was trembling violently.

Kari immediately rushed in. Unwrapping Takeru's bandage, she pushed the wad of cloth against his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. "Takeru, what the hell happened here?"

The boy didn't seem surprised that Kari was here. Or he was too stunned to care. His eyes were only beginning to return to their normal shade of blue. Taking a deep breath, he tried to pull himself together. "I…I killed them…" he gestured simply at the dead soldiers at his feet. 

Richard frowned. "Be a little more explicit Takeru."

"They took me by surprise. Blindsided me from my left when I was heading back. They hit my injured shoulder. And I…" he trailed off as he bit his lip.

Then to Kari's surprise, he began to cry. His shoulders shook slightly as he wept bitterly. "Takeru?" she said as she finished tying up the knot on his bandage, fashioning an impromptu sling. "It's over now, you don't have to worry. You defeated them. They surprised you, and you, a fourteen year-old boy, made them look like a bunch of helpless old hags- "

All Takeru could see though, was the bloody evidence on his hands and clothes. All he could feel was the horrible rage of battle overpowering his senses. Kari's voice seemed to be coming from a great distance, as if she was far away.

"TK?" He heard Kari speaking again. "Are you…are you all right?"

"I didn't want to hurt them!" the boy cried. "Why couldn't they just leave me alone?"

Richard's voice was grim as he inspected the dead soldiers carefully. "Unfortunately, Takeru, you might just have to get used to that. I have a feeling you'll be doing this a lot more in the not-so-distant future." Turning one body over, he examined the golden serpent emblazoned on their chests.

"Takeru, did _you_ bump into them, or did they find you?"

Takeru closed his eyes as he tried valiantly to compose himself. It was something he had developed over the years, bottling up ones emotions, sealing them to a distant corner so they wouldn't interfere in the moment. An almost visible mask dropped over his face as it settled into hard, unyielding lines. "They sought me out. It seemed like they were looking for something. It was a well-planned ambush from the start."

Richard was silent for a few moments as he looked back and forth in the forest. "_Merde, merde, merde…"_ he cursed softly under his breath. Although there was clearly no threat, his katana remained drawn.

"Come on," he motioned urgently at the two children as he headed back through the forest. "We have to get back."

Takeru nodded once, hastily wiped his sword against the grass, and sheathed it. For a moment, he looked unsteady again as he stepped around the body of those he had killed. A flicker of the old uncertainty appeared in his eyes, but only for a moment. Following the knight into the forest, they headed back towards camp. It was Kari that hesitated, glancing at the three bodies of the soldiers. "Are we just going to leave them here?"

Richard's answer chilled her. "They're nothing but meat for the forest animals now. Why should we bother?" At that, Kari fell silent as she followed the others.

Several minutes later, as the group reached their camp clearing, Richard began at once to get the cart prepared. "We have to get away from here," the man explained hastily. "Help me with cleaning this place up, leave no trace that we ever camped here. Takeru, kick out that fire, and scatter the ashes. Kari, help me with the horses."

Takeru got to work right away. Kicking around, he crushed the embers into the earth, scattering them widely so there was no evidence of a fire except for the small burnt patch on the ground. That could not be helped. Kari frowned as she set to work harnessing the horses. "But why? Takeru's shoulder needs time to heal, especially after that last skirmish."

It was the boy that answered softly. "We've been tracked. It must've taken them some time for the army to turn around again after they discovered _I_ hadn't been killed. After heading back, they probably picked up our trail, and tracked us here. Those soldiers I killed, I'd bet they were scouts for the main army. They'll come sweeping through this forest, and we have to be long gone by then."

"But your shoulder-"

"Will have to be fine until we can deal with it."

His cold tone of voice frightened her. There was an undercurrent of pain from his injury, but it was so tightly controlled, Kari doubted anyone else but her and Richard would notice it. She glanced over quickly at Takeru as he packed hastily. She had never, in all her years with the boy, imagined that his face, normally so caring and gentle, could look so…scary.

He couldn't hide his eyes though. It was as if he had put on a mask, a barrier around his emotions, and only Kari could see through his armour. Everyone saw a soldier with cold eyes, his katana covered in blood.

Kari saw a frightened, tortured boy.

For in that lucid moment, when she had shared Takeru's thoughts, she had known him, and _understood_ him in a way that no other mortal could. For one moment, they were truly one, in the most literal sense of the word. She would tell him about that experience later, when he was more prepared, when he was calmer. More than anything, Kari wanted to comfort him, to tell him he didn't have to hide anything from her, that he was _not_ a monster, _not_ a killer…

"We're out of time." Richard tossed their only bag of belongings onto the bag, and finished up hitching the horses. Climbing on, he gestured impatiently at the children. "Let's go. _Come on!_"

Takeru leapt on-board easily. Kari followed. Time was cruel. She wouldn't have a chance to tell him, so instead, she settled for a quick prayer under her breath.

__

Lord, if we live through this, I pray that you would guard Takeru. Guide him through this dark time Lord, when he trusts not even himself.

For after this day, I fear he may never be the same again…

__

** several hours later**

Praetor Caylor Ga'artred straightened slowly from his crouch, standing up from examining the dead bodies of his soldiers. He rubbed the sticky blood on his black-gloved hands away as he gazed once around the forest.

"Sir, looks like we were on the right track after all." Locke murmured softly behind his commander. He too was dressed in full-battle armour, his Centurion's mask firmly in place, his features indistinguishable. His unit of men, along with the legions of the _Praetor's_ entire task force, stood silently in the forest.

Caylor nodded once. "The bodies are still warm. This couldn't have happened more than several hours ago, which means we're close. This was the work of a skilled swordmaster. Look at the precision with which the strikes were applied. This battle didn't last very long. Not surprising, since they had an Ishidan knight with them."

"Actually sir, the boy, the Ishidan prince, was also quite proficient with the sword. I saw him myself wielding one of our own scimitars as if he had been born with it. He _has_ been trained, of that I am certain…"

Then Locke realized what he was doing. He, a lowly, newly-promoted Centurion, was presuming to give his opinion to his superior commander, a full-fledged _Praetor_. He bowed his head, and waited for the rebuke.

"Go ahead."

Locke looked up in surprise. "But sir- "

"How do you propose we track down and defeat an opponent such as this?" Caylor's tone was genuinely inquisitive, without a trace of rancor.

So Locke kept talking. "Overwhelm them with numbers. Send out patrols, but with specific orders not to engage until the main body of the army is with them. Against small, isolated patrols, the Ishidan knight can defeat our soldiers indefinitely. If we use our numbers, we may have them within a day."

Caylor's glacial grin was frightening. "Very good, Centurion. Make it so."

Locke bowed. "At once."

**********

For a single, flaring moment, the last, dying rays of sunset blazed brilliantly over the western ridges of the _Novinha_ mountain ranges, casting into the crimson sky brilliant golden beams. Some might say that the sun was always determined to go out with a blaze of glory, for sunset was invariably the most beautiful time of the day. 

Those last instants before the day's death were ironically the day's most splendid. Such was the way of life.

But night always came. And as those last rays died away, a cold, hostile darkness swept the land, plunging the forests into gray shadow. The friendly warmth of the day was gone, and in its place, shadows obscured the sky. Animals instinctively returned to their homes. Night was a time fraught with danger. Night was the time for a hunt.

The darkness was made even more complete with the gathering of ominous storm clouds over the sky. Already, small droplets of water were dropping onto the forest, as occasional lightning flashes lit up the clouds. A roll of low thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was approaching.

On the peak of a mountain ridge, Richard stared grimly at a column of glowing dots in the distance, advancing ever closer to his position. Threading through the forest, the distant glow of fire-torches were evident to the knight's sharp eyes. _They're onto us_, the despairing thought flashed through his mind._ And they're close. They'll be here in about three hours if we don't move it_. _Damn. Is there any way of shaking them?_

Turning, he strode quickly back to the forest path where they had stopped for a brief break. Kari was tending to the tired horses, letting them graze. Takeru, seeing his father return, padded over. "Are they still onto us?"

Richard nodded. "They're still there. And they're gaining. I can see their fire-torches in the distance." They had purposely decided to take a rest break here, because it was the highest point in the trail. From here, they could overlook miles of valleys and mountain passes, and determine, if they could, where the enemy was.

Kari sighed. "How can we shake them? No matter how hard and how fast we push ourselves, they'll always be faster. No matter where we go, they'll always be able to track us."

Richard looked into the sky. "Our only hope now is to stay ahead of them until the rain comes. Thank God for this storm. If we can survive for that long, there's no way they can track us in the rain. Our tracks will be washed away."

"_If_ we can stay ahead of them for that long," Takeru added grimly. He too looked into the sky. "About five hours. If we're still a sizable distance away from them five hours from now, we stand a chance."

__

Five hours. The time estimate sounded heavy. Five hours was forever. They were all exhausted. None of them had eaten since early afternoon. Even Takeru and Kari, mountain children that they were, were beginning to feel the effects of the strenuous march. 

Richard spared another glance at the approaching motes in the distance, gritting his teeth in frustration. Then, apparently reaching a decision, he strode purposely over. "Takeru, Kari, come here. I need to tell you something."

Curious, Kari gave the horses a last pat to ensure that they were alright, and walked over. Takeru peered over his father's shoulder as the former knight spread a map out onto the wooden floor of the cart.

"My original purpose was to stay in this forest indefinitely. Perhaps when the Khaydarin army was gone, we could construct another life for ourselves in another village. And there, I could train you, help you to grow strong, teach you, especially you Kari, all that I know.

"In another five or ten years, you'd be ready. And _then_ we could start the fight to reclaim the Age of Gods. To fulfill the purpose God set out for you."

Kari sucked in a breath, while Takeru looked away. So that was how high Richard's expectations were of them. They were to be the next Aduns. But Richard didn't give them time to reflect. His voice held a note of grim certainty.

"But it looks like I won't even have time to do that. Khaydarin is getting bolder and bolder in their border raids, almost passing the realm of skirmishes into outright battles. The razing of Kurtal was their boldest action yet. And now this. Romping through the _Novinha _mountain ranges like they own them. It's like they've completely given up the pretense of subtlety. They're determined to catch you, and put a stop to you, before you two can turn into threats. It's almost like they're planning something drastic _soon._"

Takeru frowned. "So where are we headed now? What do you plan to do?"

Richard made indicated a spot on the map. "This is where we are. In the _Novinha_ mountain ranges. I want to head east along this path, then onto the flatlands.

"In short, I want to head for the ruins of Ishida."

Kari frowned. "Why?"

The knight's response was cryptic. "There, we'll find everything. The seeds of the future lie buried in the past."

Takeru was more practical, his finger tracing the map. "Where is it? I don't see Ishida on this."

"That's because it's not on there. It's so far away, this map doesn't cover it."

The boy sucked in a breath. "_What?!_ But this covers almost a month's journey in any direction!"

Richard cast a glance at the approaching fire-torches. They were getting closer, but Takeru and Kari _had_ to know this. It was crucial that they understood.

"Takeru, you have to understand. When I ran away, I _ran_. I wandered for over two years before finally settling down in Kurtal. Ishida is _really _far east. Some of the more fantastical people around here say that the ruins of Ishida lie on the place where the Sun rises every day. That's how far East it is, all the way on the other side of Gaea."

Takeru shook his head in amazement. So that was why he looked so different from the local people. That's why he was the only one in his village with blond hair and blue eyes. Because he was _not_ native to this land at all. "But why would we want to- "

Richard grabbed the boy's shoulders. "Takeru, listen to me. It's critical that you get there! If anything ever happens to me, or if we get separated, promise me, _promise me_ that you'll find your way there. All the way to Ishida!"

Momentarily overwhelmed by the man's sudden passion, Takeru backed off slightly. "All right! All right! I promise!" Richard turned to Kari, and received an affirmative nod as well. The girl's reply was more tempered.

"Fine. If anything ever happens, I promise that I'll get there. But how _do_ we get there?" The girl still had no idea _why_, but she trusted Richard implicitly. If the knight deemed it important, then she deemed it critical. They had no place to call home, and the closest thing she had to family right now was Takeru and Richard.

Profound relief spread across Richard's features. He beckoned for Kari to come closer, and then the knight began to recount the journey to Ishida.

"First of all, head east. A _long_ way east. Past the _Novinha_ mountain ranges, past the plateaus and the _Saera_ deserts and scrublands. Be careful of roaming desert bands. Always keep the rising sun in front of you by day, and orient by the North Star at night. Don't worry too much about heading. As long as you're going roughly East, you should be fine.

"After a long while, you'll hit the ocean, and the shoreline will begin forcing you North-East. That's fine. Follow it, past the kingdom of Ichijouji. You'll know you're on the right path when you come across some sky-high cliffs. The _fortress _the local people call it_. _Keep along the shoreline, always keep the ocean to your right, and it will lead you to a river.

"The sacred river _Alph_." For a moment, Richard was silent as he was lost in some personal memory. "You'll recognize it by its peculiar diamond-shaped delta, and its sheer size. That river was once the heart of Ishida, bringing life and precious water to her farmlands and people. Head upstream, following its course, even as it begins to ascend rocky mountains again, and down deep fjords. Don't be distracted by the tributaries, but keep to the main river. Follow it all the way to its head.

"And there lies the ruins of Palas, capital of the kingdom of Ishida. That's the road to your homeland. And in there, you'll find your answers."

Slowly, Richard reached behind his neck, and unfastened something. Drawing his hand back out, he pulled a fine, golden pendant, attached to a deep-green jade jewel. Carefully, he placed the chain and jade into Takeru's palm and closed his hand over it. "And Takeru, I want you to keep this for me."

The boy stared at the jewel. For as long as he could remember, Richard had worn the thing around his neck like some sort of good-luck charm. "But father, why?"

"Please, Takeru." The man's voice was pleading. "Just…just keep it safe for me. Trust me. If we are ever separated, I don't need that jewel. I would have no use for it. You and Kari however, need it much more than I do."

In the darkening twilight, both children stared incredulously at Richard. The first few splatters of raindrops began to fall from the sky, though all three were oblivious to it. A deep silence dropped like a veil over the rocky mountain ridge.

"But why?" Kari started incredulously. "Why would we want to risk our lives to go _that_ far? For what purpose? And what's so important about that jade jewel?"

Richard cast one look back at the approaching army. Night had completely fallen by now, and the raindrops were beginning to fall in earnest. His reply was even more cryptic, almost lyrical in its poetry.

__

"He shall live the way of the wanderer. Fifteen years, his journey shall span from the ranges of the Western mountains, to the place where the Sun rises each morn. His homeland by birth and blood. 

"Fifteen years, at the end of which, he shall discover the heritage left unto him by the Lord. 

"Such is the life of the rurouni_, follower of the holy pilgrimage."_

Kari shook her head in frustration. The man was obviously quoting from something, but from _what? _"Richard, stop speaking nonsense, and start giving us straight answers! Who is the 'he' you're talking about? _Why_ is it so critically important that we get to- "

Richard opened his mouth to answer.

"_Kari look out!_"

Takeru's yell was accompanied by a blinding blur of blue steel as he unsheathed his sword. A small blue spark erupted in the darkness as the arrow that had originally been aimed at Kari was deflected neatly, flying back into the darkness from where it came.

Suddenly, the forest was alive with dark, shimmering figures, rippling into existence with the all-too-familiar shedding of their cloaks. The vanguard of the Khaydarin task force had arrived. Kari counted a full twenty-man unit, the masks and scimitars flashing in the fading light. More and more columns shimmering into existence behind them by the second.

"_Dammit!_" Richard unsheathed his blade as well, as Kari hastily drew her own _wakizashi_. "I should've known!" 

Too late, he realized, that the burning torches from afar were simply decoys, a small force left behind to travel slowly, while the bulk of the army went ahead, under cover of darkness. It was an age-old tactic, made all the more effective with the forested terrain, darkness, and stealth cloaks. He should've _known_, should've anticipated this, but they had been one step ahead. 

__

Stupid, careless, thoughtless, he berated himself mentally, even as he swung into battle. _Richard Takaishi, if you die for this – you deserve it._

Takeru didn't hear his surrogate father. All of his senses were devoted to staying alive. He was suddenly surrounded by a plethora of scimitar-wielding soldiers, and he struck out savagely, like a hot summer flame. A flickering, golden aura shone from his blade, lending a fiery brilliance to its arcs and slashes.

The rain was falling in sheets by now, drenching the boy to the skin. But he didn't care. Indeed, he welcomed it, as if the water could wash away his hideousness. Thunder began rumbling in earnest, as cascades of lightning flashed across the sky. Strike, parry and feint; dodge, hack and thrust, the boy battled furiously against the dark soldiers. The calm path turned into a chaotic field of crashing steel and flying blood.

A whinny of horses and thundering hooves pierced the sounds of savage battle. Both father and son looked up as Kari, standing atop the cart, urged the panicked horses through the melee. In the confusion, Kari had somehow fought her way back to the wagon. The heavy cart and berserk animals smashed through the Khaydarin ranks, who gave way out of sheer surprise and shock.

"_Come on!_" she screamed at Takeru, who was closer than Richard. The boy gave one last slash, then threw himself back and up, landing clumsily on the careening cart. The shock of his landing knocked the breath out of him, and jarred his injured shoulder mercilessly, but he made it. A jagged shard of lightning pierced the sky, the terrible concussion of thunder rocking the mountains.

Already, Kari was steering the cart for Richard, plunging through the startled crowd of soldiers. Anyone who didn't get out of the way fast enough was crushed flat. The knight was fighting valiantly, blinding sparks erupting from his parries and strikes. Khaydarin soldiers fell like corn before a reaper, but still more pressed on and on. 

"_Father!_" Takeru screamed, extending his right hand. Kari had her hands full trying to control the cart, so the boy knew he had to perform the tricky extraction himself. "_Grab onto my hand!_"

Richard heard. Even as the cart careened madly towards him, the knight was already jumping back, trying to gain himself some room. Parrying a strike to his throat, he kicked the soldier in the throat. As the man went down, gagging and choking, Richard leapt, his free hand seeking for Takeru's extended arm.

For a breath-taking moment, Takeru believed he would make it. His father would grab his arm. Kari would steer them clear. The cart would quickly outdistance its Khaydarin pursuers, and before they had collected their wits, they would be long gone. And they would never be able to track them in the rain. 

There was his father, hanging in the air. Just in front of him.

__

So close…so close…

A feral howl pierced the night sky as a brilliant blue nova flare of light shattered the darkness. A jagged stream of lightning blue blasted through the space between the boy and the man's hand. Takeru could feel the electric power of it on his face as it streamed by within inches of his hand.

"_NOOOO!!!!!_"

Richard, blasted in midair, went tumbling off to the side. The cart careened on, past the downed knight, down the steep mountain path. Takeru and Kari were now going downhill, and there was no turning back as the wagon picked up speed, tearing past tree branches recklessly. A fresh unit of soldiers closed off the gap. Horrified, Takeru realized there was no way for them to double back now to his father. It was death to try.

"_Father!!!_"

Another blinding blue flash erupted, in conjunction with a jagged fork of lightning that sundered the roiling, stormy sky. Looking back, Takeru saw a man, an eerie, blue-white aura blazing around his frame. The light gleamed off his metallic half-mask, and his gray-black cloak whipped around violently in the storm of his own aura, like a set of demonic wings. His eyes, what Takeru could see of them beneath his mask, also glowed the same brilliant blue.

Kari twisted around, and got one glimpse, one clear look, but it was enough.

__

A stand?! A stand-master?! But how could that-

Takeru, however, was oblivious. Almost blind with rage and frustration. "_Father, come back!!_" he screamed again, his crazed voice cutting through the howling wind. The boy was beyond reason.

"_Father!!_"

Painfully, Richard picked himself up, only to find himself locked into battle again. Snarling Khaydarin soldiers hemmed in on him, shimmering scimitars slashed and thrust at him. For every one he slew, three more took his place. It was useless. No matter where he turned, there were more of them. He called on every last ounce of skill and strength, but there was too much. The odds were too great.

And so Richard did what his Ishidan warrior's discipline demanded. He embraced his own death, and fell unrepentant into the approaching darkness that clouded his vision. Even as Khaydarin slashes began to score hits, even as he felt himself beginning to lose strength and be dragged under, he fought savagely, tooth and nail, determined to thin the Khaydarin ranks as much as possible. Soldiers fell left and right to Vargas Takaishi's flashing sword and berserk strength. 

For even within sight death, the master of the _Shun Ten Satsu_ was a dangerous man. To protect his Emperor, this particular knight was willing to go all the way to hell.

__

Such was the way of life. Those last instants before the day's death were ironically the day's most splendid…

Richard's last words rang clear and true across the raging battlefield. Even as Takeru collapsed weeping on the floor of the cart, his body racked with savage sobs of grief. Even as the wagon careened farther and farther away, rapidly outdistancing its pursuers, the boy heard the knight's last words piercing the storm, piercing the rain to reach his ears.

"_Long live King Takeru!!_"

**********

__

**five hours later**

The rain showed no sign of slackening. Although the rumbling thunder and lightning had abated slightly, sheets of water still poured down onto the forest. The driving elements battered any foolish enough to stay out on a night like this.

A small, horse-drawn cart jostled, and slowed to a stop along a narrow valley path. The two horses' heads were drooped, sweat rolling off their flanks, mixing with the rainwater. Their laboured breaths came out in puffs of smoke in the frigid mountain air.

A small girl hopped off the front board, dragging several objects from the flatbed behind her. The _wakizashi _fastened to her belt clacked softly in its sheath as she hoisted a bag of supplies over her shoulder. Then she turned, and helped another child leap off as well.

This one seemed to be injured, from the way he collapsed onto his knees right after he landed, regardless of the muddy puddles. A katana was fastened to his right belt. If one looked closer, one would notice the two tear-stained tracks running down his cheeks, mingling with the rainwater that dripped from his matted blond hair.

Kari, however, had no time to grieve. After unloading the cart of all the vital supplies, she turned the horses towards the west, gave both horses a small pat and a murmured word of thanks, then gave each of them a slap on the backside. The cart took off, without a driver, heading west through the forest.

Behind it, the girl spared one last glance at the receding wagon, then readjusted the bag on her shoulder, and struck due east with the boy.

They studiously avoided the path, choosing instead to blaze their own through the wild, mountain forests. After awhile, it was obvious they were both bone weary. Takeru especially. Perhaps the bloody sling on his left arm had something to do with it. Every few seconds, a drop of crimson blood dripped onto the ground below, only to be washed away quickly by the driving rain.

Both of them had been running for twelve hours straight, and were cold, wet, hungry and tired. There were limits to what the human body could endure.

Takeru held together for another hour before he finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion and grief. "Kari, I…I can't go any further," he panted softly as he kneeled on the ground, heedless of the mud. It was not mere sleepiness. It was that terrible, bone-numbing _weariness_ of battle, the type that penetrates to your soul, freezes your mind, and turns your marrow into mud.

"Come on." The girl doubled back to help her friend up. "We have to keep moving, put the most distance between us while the rain's still erasing our tracks."

"I…I can't."

"Takeru, you can do it!" Her voice grew sterner, harder. "Get up, and start moving! We can't stop until sunrise, at the very least. Richard believed in you, I believe in you- "

It was a mistake to mention the dead knight. The boy crumpled to the ground, tears starting to run anew. "Richard…"

Kari felt tears prickling her eyes as well, but she held them back. She had to remain strong, for both their sake's. "Takeru, I grieve for him too. I know how you feel. But we have to keep moving!"

"Why won't anyone understand? They don't get it! They say I'd get used to it. But I _can't_ get used to it! All I'm getting is tired, and more tired, and more tired…"

Kari bit her tongue to try to control her rising temper. "God doesn't think so. Richard didn't think so. Takeru, he really did believe in you. He honestly staked his life on the belief that you were going to be the next Adun, a visionary. Are you going to dishonour his memory by dying now?"

"As far as I'm concerned, his belief was misplaced." 

"But your heritage! Your stand- "

Takeru heaved a shuddering breath. "Let someone else be famous. Let someone else have the power, the glory. Let someone else go down in the history books, and be hailed for generations as the next Adun."

His voice quieted down to a whisper. "Me? I just want to go home. Except I don't know where home is anymore…"

__

Slap.

With a fury that surprised even herself, Kari struck the boy savagely across the face. There was no use trying to hold back her emotions now. All her rage, fear and grief spilled over like a raging river bursting over its dam.

"It's all about you, isn't it? _I_ don't want to do it._ I_ didn't want to be chosen." Kari's eyes flashed with anger. "Well, Takeru, _wake up!_ It's not about you! The world doesn't revolve around you! It has always been about the others, the people of Gaea. From the very beginning!"

Takeru cradled his stinging cheek as he stared up at her. Kari began to cry as well. Or was it rainwater that slid down her cheeks? In the darkness, it might as well have been blood, and he wouldn't have noticed. He stared incredulously as Kari continued brokenly.

"Nobody said being a hero would be fun. Did Richard say that? Did I say that? No. But we _dare_ to become that hero anyway. We willingly shoulder that burden because as stand-masters, we have a responsibility to God's people. Because we're the only ones who _can!_"

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as she too collapsed onto her knees in front of the boy, oblivious of the muddy ground, oblivious to the icy rain sliding down her back. Sobs began to rack her body as well.

"Don't come complaining to _me_ about grief, Takeru _Ishida_. When you can bring me back my mother, then you can complain about what this costs you. I lost my home, my family, my life. Richard was as much my father as he was yours. But I want be strong. For the sake of everyone, I want be strong. I don't want anyone to get hurt because I wasn't _enough!_

"To fulfill the promise I gave to Richard, I will go to Ishida. I will risk my life to go that far east. On my own strength, if necessary. And when I get there, I _will_ discover God's heritage for me."

The tears were blinding now. The cold mask she wore to survive was gone, washed away in the torrent of her emotions. For a moment, Kari was a frightened, little girl, lost and alone in a world suddenly upside-down. 

"But if even _you_, Takeru, if _you_ collapse on me…how can I be strong? When I am so much weaker than you are?"

Richard had been a rock in the storm, and Takeru an anchor so strong and secure that Kari, sheltered in his lee, hadn't even noticed the storm existed. And now, Richard was gone. And Takeru…this frightened her, more than she dared to admit. He too, was frightened and scared. The storm was free to blow her every which way. She was a helpless fleck of foam caught in the raging waves and wind.

__

If even Takeru can't do it, then what hope in hell do I_ have?_

Kari collapsed, her exhausted frame unable to support her any longer. Her body utterly spent. Slowly, Takeru hugged her close, supporting her trembling body with his own. Staring at the sky, he allowed the incessant rainwater to wash over his face.

__

The people. God's people…

Was that it? This was about the people. The countless innocents that would die if Khaydarin ever launched their campaign, the dark rule that would result if they ever conquered Gaea. For the conquest _was_ coming. 

Richard had known all along, hadn't he? Known for fourteen years, ever since that preemptive strike on Ishida. Known that they were planning. And when will be the culmination of their plans? When they would finally move boldly in a bloody campaign against Gaea? 

Ten years? Five years? Next week?

__

And father had most certainly hoped, every moment of my childhood that I_ was the only one who would stop them. That's why he taught me all that he did, about _Kenjitsu_, about history, about leading. That's why he told me so many stories about Ishida, and about Khaydarin. That's why he devoted so many hours to teaching me, not just about sword-fighting, but about love, trust and loyalty. _

No, he didn't teach me those. He showed_ me those._

And it must have killed him. Every moment of every day. To know that one day he would send me, the son he loved, into battle, perhaps never to return. His son, not in blood, but most definitely in spirit. But he did it anyway. He swallowed his fear and hid it, and did it anyway. Hid and concealed it so perfectly I never once suspected.

For to him, I_ was destiny's child. To him, I was Crown Prince of all Ishida, the last of the great stand-masters._

But was he correct? Am I the truly Godspoken? Do I have the strength? The purpose? For as long as I could remember, I was Takeru Takaishi, mountain boy of Kurtal. 

Dare I shoulder the burden to become Takeru Ishida, Emperor of my kingdom? 

The troubling thoughts raced through the boy's mind as he gazed upwards. The roiling thunderclouds yielded no answers. The driving rain yielded no answers. Instead, Kari's words resounded in his ears, even as he closed his eyes against the downpour.

And in them, he found answers.

__

"Nobody said being a hero would be fun. Did Richard say that? Did I say that? No. But we do it anyway, because as stand-masters, we have a responsibility to God's people. Because we're the only ones who can!"

__

"But if even you, Takeru, if you collapse on me…how can I be strong? When I am so much weaker than you are?"

It was not about him. People around him drew strength from him, whether he liked it or not. For their sakes, he had to remain strong. They must not be allowed to see his tears, most not be allowed to see his fear. If he was uncertain, they must not know it. If he was scared, he must appear confident. The strong were the most lonely, for there would be no-one to comfort them. They could not afford it.

The stand was not a blessing, it was a _curse_. He knew that now. Had known from the beginning. But it was also his duty. It was his heritage. It was his bitter responsibility. God demanded no less. The people demanded no less. _Richard_ demanded no less. 

But dare he fulfill it?

"_Richard believed in you. He honestly staked his life on the belief that you were going to be the next Adun, a visionary. Are you going to dishonour his memory by dying now?_"

Takeru opened his eyes again. Slowly.

He dared. He would do it. He _dared_ to become that visionary. He would try his damned hardest, and if he failed, so be it. He'd die secure in the knowledge that he had done his best. The people around him would remember him as a fool, but a devoted fool. _"Takeru Takaishi, the crazy boy who didn't know his own limits. But by God, he tried!!"_

Yes, I'll do it.

__

If for nothing else, for the sake of the man I called "father", and for the man who called me "son".

He gave Kari's arm a reassuring squeeze. Startled, she looked up into his face. The tear-stains were still there, the bloody sling on his shoulder was still there. Rainwater still matted his blond hair to his forehead. But he looked _different_. His eyes shone with a glimmer of the old strength, the old purpose that Kari had come to depend on so much.

"I won't collapse on you." The words sounded almost childishly simple. "If you are willing to come with me, I will try to be strong as well." Slowly, he stood up, and offered a hand to the girl. "Can't stop till daybreak, huh? Well, let's go then. I'll get all the rest I need next week. 

"Richard wanted us to go east. So let's go east."

Numbly, Kari took the offered hand, and pulled herself up. Physically, the boy was still weak. His slight body was bent with exhaustion, and his blue eyes were tired. But his hand was steady. Steady as a rock. Gratefully, she smiled at him, a small smile of heartfelt relief and thanks.

Takeru was back. The Lord had answered her prayer. And the funny thing was, she never once suspected that it was through _her_ that He would answer it.

"Let's go then. Due east it is."

And so, both children struck through the forest once again, through the dark night and lashing rain. Supporting each other, helping each other. Together, in their weakness, they were strong.

Behind them lay the smashed remnants of Kurtal, and the dead body of one they had both loved as their father. Behind them lay what remained of their childhood.

Before them lay impenetrable darkness and uncertainty. Dawn, with its welcome warmth, was still a long way off, and a long night fraught with danger still awaited them. 

But they would face it together. The coming years would be some of the most horrific either of them had ever faced. Indeed, the most horrific Gaea had ever seen. But they would face it together. Ever eastward, they went, ever farther from the pursuing Khaydarin army. Ever eastward, to Takeru Ishida's homeland.

__

Father,

I can't explain this kind of grace,

This kind of love.

Even when I break your heart,

When I stray from your arms,

You run to welcome to me.

Father,

I love the way you hold me close,

And say my name.

"Takeru" you whisper in my ear,

"My little boy.

My beloved son."

From the moment my life began,

You have been faithful.

Forever loving, 

Forever tender.

And so I will be faithful to you,

To follow the path you set for me.

So this is my song of praise to you.

For who you are, and all that you do.

This is my song of farewell to you.

My precious guide,

My beloved father.

** Author's notes: Quite a lot of things to address here.

One. To the person who said "The Age of Gods" was "this is crap", don't bother looking for your review anymore. I removed it, and good riddance. Same for the person who flamed "Innocents of War" with a simple "this suks!!!!!! (cont'd)". Unsupported two or three word flames like that are no use to me. If you hate it, TELL ME WHY!! Constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames are…not. *sighs* I suppose every author gets flamed eventually…

Two. This is the last chapter of "The Age of Gods". Like before, this story will be continued in another saga. Title yet to be determined. *rubs temples* I don't know why, but I seem to be developing a bit of a writer's block with this story. Progress is…slow.

Oh yeah. The reason why this chapter was so late was because I was on vacation. It IS summer holidays now, you know.

Things I was inspired / took ideas, concepts or names from (just so I don't get friggin' called for plagiarism):

  * The game "StarCraft" (The names "Khaydarin", "Adun", "_Praetor"_) 
  * The anime "Record of Lodoss War" (The name "The Age of Gods") 
  * The anime "Rurouni Kenshin" (the sword fight scenes) 
  * The anime "Vision of Escaflowne" ("Gaea", the sword fight scenes) 
  * The anime "Jo Jo's Bizarre Adventure" (the concept of the "stand") 
  * Digimon (I'm not even going to bother…) 
  * Timothy Zahn's "Heir to the Empire" series. (It's a series of Star Wars books. The personality of Caylor.) 
  * James Ramsey Ullman's "Banner in the Sky" ("Kurtal", "Broli", "laesbube / angel-face") 
  * Orson Scott Card's "Ender's Game" (The name "Locke Dimak") **great book, by the way. You should try it. In fact, try all of the books I've listed. ^_^ 
  * The story "Homeworld Return" posted on Vector's profile, (but incidentally, not written by him, but by Andrew Cole). (The name "Caylor Ga'artred")
  * The Christian song "Faithful Father" (the little poem thingy at the end. Not exactly the same thing though. It's been heavily modified)

Um…I can't think of anymore. If I miss anything, remind me to put it in later.

And finally, thanks a TON to my editors, phawx and Dreamwalker. Phawx was a great help with the preliminary editing, like…rephrasing my free-writes. And Dreamwalker helped immensely with perfecting the final product. Let's give a round of applause to both of them!! *claps heartily*

The contest's due date, remember, is July 7th. That's not a lot of time. Get your entries in people! Late submissions will not be accepted. There are no exceptions. Remind your friends, if they somehow miss this chapter. Check back with my profile for announcements, as I'll be updating it with contest info.

Oh, and check out the new pic I posted on my profile! *giggles insanely* The moment I saw TK's ridiculous hat, I was just _waiting_ for something like this to happen. Pity it never did in the series, so I did it myself. ^_^


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